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HOW BALDY WON 

THE COUNTY SEAT 




BY 

CHARLES JOSIAH ADAMS 

Author of “Where Is My Dog?” “The Matterhornhead,” 
etc., etc. 



SECOND EDITION 




NEW YORK 

J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY 

57 Rose Street 





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By tran*fot 

White -Hd-fi ? 


Copyright, 1902, 
by 

CHARLES JOSIAH ADAMS 
in the 

United States 
and 

Great Britain. 

Entered at 

Stationers’ Hall, London. 

All Rights Reserved. 


Hew Baldy IVon the County Seat . 


PREFACE. 


How Baldy Won the County Seat is the 
story of the adventures .of a young clergyman and 
his horse, at the West of thirty years ago — a West 
which no longer exists — of which there should be 
some record. 

I should write familiarly of this West, as I 
spent in it seventeen of the best years of my 
life — residing in its cities, riding over its deserts 
and plains, exploring its canyons, climbing its 
mountains, .sleeping at its ranches, in its cabins, 
by its campfires, knowing, better than it may be 
thought that a clergyman should know, the men 
who made it so picturesque and so terrible — such 
men as, to mention but two, the original Buffalo 
Bill and Jesse James — rough men, but whiter 
than many, whom I have also known, who have 
fairly panted in their eagerness to paint them 
black. 

It would be singular did I not have a rather 
clear notion of the sort of a clergyman who could 
do good at such a time, in such a region, among 
such men. 


IV 


Preface. 


And the fact that I have, through the years, 
written so much in biophilism — or animal psy- 
chology — that the letters which I am constantly 
receiving from my friends, the editors, seem to 
intimate that they have no thought of my writing 
in any other line, may be sufficient evidence that 
I know a horse when I see one — though to the 
establishing of such a proposition I might add 
that in the old days it was irreverently said that 
I must have been born on horseback. 

I have told the story because, when it arose in 
my mind, I thought it worth the telling. 

But should any one, through reading it, be 
made more merciful to either a horse or a clergy- 
man I shall be thankful. 

Charles Josiaii Adams. 

St. Luke's Bectorv, 

Bossville, Staten Island, 1ST. Y. 

St. Peter's Day, 1902. 


PREFACE 

TO THE SECOND EDITION. 

I am compelled to do so much purely conven- 
tional writing that in writing How Baldy Wok 
the County Seat, without thought of conven- 
tion — with no thought but that of allowing what 
was in my mind to express itself in its own way — 
I thoroughly enjoyed myself: which may be one 
of the reasons why the first edition went so quickly ; 
for what one takes pleasure in doing is apt to give 
pleasure. 

I have been agreeably, disappointed in that not 
a single critic has spoken adversely of the way in 
which in so writing I did my work. 

My fear was that what I thought its excellences 
might be considered defects. 

One of these is the way in which I negatived 
the infinitive with to — by placing the not after 
the preposition in^most cases, after the root in 
some. 

The first of the former cases is at the bottom of 
page 9, wdiere I say : “Disposed to not disturb his 
mother . . ” 


vi 


Preface. 


That is exactly what I wanted to say, and not 
“Disposed not to disturb his mother . . .” 

He was not disposed not to, but disposed to not. 

It should be remembered that the negative is 
as much a fact as the positive, and not simply the 
absence of the positive. A little attention to 
mathematics would make the average writer a bet- 
ter user of his mother tongue. 

Then, in the regions both South and West, 
where I supposed the events of my story to oc- 
cur, or remembered them as having occurred, 
the folk negative the form of the verb of which 
I speak as I negatived it in recording those events. 

This is not strictly speaking, the splitting of the 
infinitive — of which I would not be understood as 
uttering disrespect; for, in common with a stick, 
when the infinitive will serve better split than 
intact it should be split. 

The English is not an inflected language. 

And what is the infinitive that one should break 
a commandment by getting on his knees to it? 

I am not saying that in the negative of the 
infinitive with to the not should never precede 
the to. 

The sound is sometimes more important than 
clearness — as in: 


tf ‘To be or not to be?” 


Preface. 


Vll 


But here it is an abstract question of being, and 
not a question of someone’s or something’s being 
or not being this, that, or the other. 

An example of placing the not after the root of 
the infinitive itself may be found on page 301 — 
in : “His mother thought his beard to be not abso- 
lutely unbecoming.” 

That again is what I had in mind to say, and 
not: “His mother thought his beard not to be.” 

It would hurt no writer to devote himself to 
mathematics till he has a clear notion of the char- 
acter and power of the negative. 

And I wanted the positive to have a chance as 
well as the negative. So I correlated or rather 
than nor with neither. 

Out of the past, through the decades, from the 
hard trail, over the wide reaches, on the rushing 
wind, come to me the hoof-beats of Baldy. — Were 
the paragraphs of How Baldy Won the County 
Seat as short, sharp, distinct, musical, rhyth- 
mical as they I would be satisfied. 

Charles Josiah Adams. 

XXIII Day in Lent, 1903. 


J 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER I. PAGE 

The Fists and the Conscience 1 

CHAPTER II. 

Of the Sort of Stuff for a Clergyman? 9 

CHAPTER III. 

Emory Visits the Bishop 28 

CHAPTER IV. 

The Dog-Sermon 41 

CHAPTER V. 

Bee Thompson 57 

CHAPTER VI. 

Pone 63 

CHAPTER VII. 

The Pot 75 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Looking into the Muzzles of Two Revolvers 91 

CHAPTER IX. 

The Stomach and toe Head 114 

CHAPTER X. 

Ducks and Prairie Chickens 132 

CHAPTER XI. 

What Should be Done with Editor Walker? 144 

CHAPTER XII. 

A Concert 158 


VI 


Contents, 


CHAPTER XIII. PAGE 

A Conclusion Reached 177 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Highway Robbery 193 

CHAPTER XV. 

Baldy 204 

CHAPTER XVI. 

The Dream-Horse 219 

CHAPTER XVII. 

A Pastoral Call 235 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

Floating Island 251 

CHAPTER XIX. 

A Charge on Baldy r 262 

CHAPTER XX. 

The Destruction of a Note 279 

CHAPTER XXI. 

Kidnapped 295 

CHAPTER XXII. 

A Strange Valley ; 311 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

Did He Drink It? 323 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

Baldy Again 334 

CHAPTER XXV. 

Two Well-Directed Stones 347 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

The Hop 355 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

An Amendment 371 


HOW BALDY WON THE 
COUNTY SEAT. 


CHAPTER I. 

THE FISTS AND THE CONSCIENCE. 

I am sorry to have it to record that during his 
seminary life Emory M. Emberson was fonder of 
football than of Hebrew, of boxing than of polem- 
ics. At the latter athletic exercise he excelled. 
He belonged to a number of gentlemen’s clubs in. 
various cities. He came to be one of the best 
amateur boxers in America. He once cut cleanly 
the lectures in pastoral theology for a whole 
month, because at the hour of those lectures he 
was defending — or holding himself ready to de- 
fend — the amateur boxing championship of the 
region east of the Rocky Mountains. He loved to 
box, and was always ready to meet whoever came. 
This was, of course, not known to the faculty. 


2 


How Baldy Won 

That body might have known it; but the theo- 
logues were proud of the prowess and science of 
one of their number, and did not give him away, 
and no professor cared to be known as a reader of 
the sporting news. Those whom Emory had de- 
feated were naturally not all anxious that he 
should defeat everyone else. When did human 
being ever succeed at anything without awaken- 
ing jealousy in the hearts of some other human 
beings? From these feelings there was result. 
One day, at the club at which he defended — or 
stood on the alert to defend — the championship 
he was introduced to a man who did not appear 
to be exactly a gentleman. But that did not mat- 
ter. Could he box? That was the only ques- 
tion in Emory’s mind. Something was said about 
boxing — which was not to be wondered at, as box- 
ing was about the only thing ever spoken of at 
this club. It was proposed that Emory and the 
stranger have a bout. Though Emory was some- 
what surprised that nothing was said about the 
belt, he -was perfectly willing to bos with the 
stranger, as he w r ould have been not only whiling 
but anxious to do with any mortal man who 
might have appeared. He w r as noted in this re- 
gard. It had been said that he would not hesitate 
to stand up, with gloves or bare hands, before the 
Evil One himself. 


3 


The County Seat. 

“What weight gloves?” asked the stranger. 

“It does not matter to me,” answered Emory. 

The lightest were chosen. 

The combatants confronted each other. Only 
a few passes had been exchanged, when Emory 
saw what had been done. A prizefighter had been 
run in on him ! Seeing this, many an amateur 
would have refused to continue the conflict, but 
Emory was not that sort of an amateur. The 
trick which had been played was despicable, but 
it had been played ! He had fallen into the trap. 

It must not be supposed that had Emory known 
that his opponent was a prizefighter before the 
sparring began he would have refused the con- 
test. But in that case he would have known what 
he was undertaking, and would have acted more 
cautiously than he would naturally do in conflict 
with an amateur — one of his own class. 

Then it is not pleasant for anyone to feel that 
he has been played with. This is especially true 
of one of the essential pride of an essential fighter, 
which Emory was in the most essential meaning 
of the word. His blood boiled — not so much 
against the man before him as against those who 
had introduced the man— though the man had al- 
lowed himself to be introduced. Then the man 
was there to be hit, and the tricksters were not ! 
They were looking on. So the man whom he con- 


4 


How Baldy Won 

fronted was to Emory not only himself — he sym- 
bolized others, against whom Emory’s rage in- 
tensified as his war spirit rose. His teeth shut 
hard. He was an electric battery. He kept his 
head thoroughly. He acted on the defensive for 
two rounds. He did not allow all his skill, or all 
his strength to appear. The stranger became 
overconfident. In the third round Emory became 
aggressive. The stranger was surprised. The op- 
portunity which Emory wanted presented itself. 
The stranger was struck at the side of the neck, 
and went down in a heap — limp as a rag. He did 
not come to for the next round. 

There were probably seventy-five clubmen pres- 
ent. They gathered around the victor to con- 
gratulate him, but he said: 

“No! Stand off! You have treated me seur- 
vily! And you must pay for it!” 

At this he jerked off his gloves and threw them 
to an attendant, saying quietly, but with a hiss 
in his voice: 

“I have been boxing. I now propose to fight ! 
You may come all at once, if you see fit ! That 
would be cowardly, but in perfect keeping with 
your introducing a slugger to me — who is not in 
condition at the present moment to thank me, 
or to appreciate what I am about to say — which 
is, that in comparison with the best of you he is 


5 


The County Seat. 

of the highest lineage and culture. He fought 
fairly ! I see that you are not disposed to come 
in a body. I doiyt greatly blame you ! One 
or more of you would be very badly hurt ! Now 
I have this proposition to make: Fll meet you: 
three at a time till the whole crowd is thrashed, or 
I am.” 

At this moment a young fellow stepped for- 
ward and said: 

“Emberson, you have been treated shabbily, but 
you must not think that we all had a hand in it ! 
I didn’t know that the bout was going to be — 
didn’t come in till it was in progress. Then I 
saw what had been done. I was indignant, and my 
feeling is the feeling of all present but three. 
We know them, and we know w T hy they have acted 
as they have. I shall see that they answer to the 
club. I know that I shall be numerously seconded 
in moving in that direction.” 

There was a murmur of assent from all — save 
the three. Their eyes fell under Emory’s. The 
others frowned upon them. They retired during 
“three cheers and a tiger for Emberson” — pro- 
posed by the largest, oldest and most influential 
member. They tried afterwards to resign. That 
was not allowed. 

It should be stated, however, that they were 
subsequently reinstated — through the influence of 


6 


How Baldy Won 

Emory, one of whose characteristics was — as is 
always the case with a born fighter — that he could 
not hold spite — was magnanimous even to those 
who did not deserve his magnanimity. 

He was also conscientious. He remembered the 
frame of mind in which he delivered the knock- 
out blow. At that moment he was angry at the 
whole club — not knowing that only three of its 
members were in the conspiracy against him. 
When he struck the man it was with the disposi- 
tion to annihilate. He knew that such a dis- 
position could not long have remained in his 
mind. He was fully aware that it was utterly im- 
possible for him, at any time, or under any cir- 
cumstances, with malice aforethought, to injure 
anyone seriously — much less to take, in such 
spirit, the life of a fellow creature. 

“But,” he asked himself, “when one strikes an- 
other in an anger which is murderous, or even in 
carelessness of what the result of the blow may 
be, and the stroke results in death, is not the 
striker a murderer? And suppose the one smitten 
does not die, is not the one who delivers such a 
blow as I have imagined — such a blow as 
I delivered, in fact, subjectively a murderer — a 
murderer at the bar of his own conscience, and in 
the sight of God, though the law of man may 
not lay hold of him? And is one who can yield 


The County Seat. 7 

to such a passion as that which governed me in 
that bout fit to be a clergyman ?” 

The bout occurred a few weeks before the final 
examinations for graduation. It was all that 
Emory could do to keep himself from going away 
at once. He would have done so had it not been 
for his mother. He knew that such action upon, 
his part would give her great pain. Then he- 
wanted to remain in the city where the seminary 
was situated, during the convalescence of the 
stranger. He had to do something to keep the 
question whether he was a homicide in intent from 
driving him wild. So he devoted himself to pre- 
paring for the examinations. There was need that 
he do a deal of cramming. One cannot do the 
boxing necessary to the defense of a belt and keep 
in training that the defense may have a show of 
being successful without neglecting things which 
are commonly held to be of more importance. 
Examination week came. To his surprise, to the 
w T onder of his friends, to the astonishment of the 
faculty, he graduated with honors. But he had 
entered the ring with Hebrew as he had with the 
stranger — resolved to do the knocking out. 

This graduation involved his being ordained 
deacon. Had it involved his being priested, I 
doubt if he could have brought himself to gradu- 
ate. But he knew enough of ecclesiastical his- 


3 


How Baldy Won 

tory to be aware that the deacon, at least theoretic- 
ally, has to do with the temporalities rather than 
with the spiritualities of the church — that the 
diaconate is the business order of the threefold 
ministry. If he was morally capable to conduct 
a grocery store, or the business department of a 
newspaper, why was he not, in the same regard, 
capable of attending to the materialities of a 
church? Then as a deacon there would be no 
obligation upon him to connect himself with a 
church clerically. Many deacons were in law, 
literature, journalism, trade. 

So he became a deacon, and — his mother was 
happy. 


The County Seat. 


9 


5 

i 

CHAPTER II. 

OF THE SORT OF STUFF FOR A CLERGYMAN? 

That he might not be out of the fashion, 
Emory, at the opening of the week before his 
graduation, ordered a clerical suit, which he wore 
at the commencement exercises, and at the service 
immediately following, in the course of which he 
was ordained deacon. 

Then he took it off, and did not have it on again 
for three }'ears — save once — upon the first day of 
a fortnight’s visit to his mother — to whom he 
w'ent immediately at the closing of his life at uni- 
versity. 

He reached Fordville, his home town, by river 
steamboat, at about two o’clock in the morning — 
the boat being late — as boats, and other means of 
conveyance, are apt to be at the South — the region 
to which he belonged — the ways of which region, 
by the way, were not unpleasant to him after some 
years at the North. 

Disposed to not disturb* his mother, or the 

*See Preface to Second Edition— if interested in 
questions of grammatical forms. 


io How Baldy Won 

household, he went to an hotel, at which he had 
stopped now and again through the years, and at 
which, in his boyhood, he had done much more 
lounging than his mother had thought to be good 
for him. He knew that this hotel was not open 
over night. He knew, also, that the porter was 
accustomed to being occasionally routed out by a 
patron from the chronically belated boat. 

The porter knew him, and yawningly greeted 
him. In common with everybody in the town, 
this porter knew all about everybody else. He 
assured Emory that his mother was well. This 
assurance put his mind at rest. He had no speci- 
fic reason for anxiety in the regard of his mother. 
But he has a keen imagination, which gives him 
a great deal of pleasure at times, but which 
oftener gives him a great deal of pain. Some 
pre-natal influence has placed a frown upon its 
brows rather than a smile upon its lips. One of 
its ways is to suggest whenever he turns his face 
homewards all manner of horrible things which 
may have occurred in his absence. 

When he descended to the office, the next morn- 
ing, he w r as in clericals, reversed collar and all. 

The clerk, a hulking fellow, whom he had 
known all his life, some years older than he— a 
fighter of more than local renown, his reputation 


The County Seat. n 

having spread over two or three counties — ex- 
claimed: 

“Hello, Em !” then regarding the clericals, with 
a mock bow, and a sneer: 

“Beg your pardon — -your reverence !’* 

“No need o’ that, Ike !” said Emory, drily. 
“The clothes don’t make the man ! Let me be 
Em to you ! Pay no attention to how 1 may be 
dressed !” and walked to a front window, and 
looked out on the street. 

The tone of this reply irritated Ike, and the 
irritation was none the less because of a laugh 
which came from half a dozen guests and some 
loafers who sat about. 

At the bottom of the embrasure of the window 
— the walls were of stone and thick — lay a set of 
boxing gloves. Absent-mindedly, Emory picked 
up one of these, smiled at its bumpiness, and 
p.ulled it on. 

Having closed and opened his hand two or three 
times, he began to pull it off, thinking of how of- 
fensive its stiffness would be to some of the mem- 
bers of some of the clubs to which he belonged. 

But before the pulling off was accomplished, Ike 
stepped from behind his counter, saying: 

“No, you don’t ! One of the rules of this es- 
tablishment is that when a fellow puts on a glove 
he must use it before he takes it off!” 


12 


How Baldy Won 

These words were accompanied by a smile, 
which was said to be always on Ike’s lips on the 
eve of a fight. 

‘ With a good-natured grin, Emory replied: 

“Just as you please, Ike! But you wouldn’t 
want to hurt a clergyman, would you?” 

Ike answered : “Oh, — the clergyman part of it ! 
But you are not a clergyman to me — especially 
after what you said a little bit ago. You are only 
Em Emberson. For this you may be thankful; 
for if I considered you a clergyman I might hit 
all the harder !” 

“Very well !” answered Emory, with a smile not 
unlike Ike’s, readjusting the glove promptly, and 
drawing on its mate. 

Ike pulled the other pair on, spitefully. It was 
evident that he was in a rough-and-tumble mood. 
He and Emory had always been great friends. 
But he was one of those men who hate clergymen, 
simply because they are clergymen — who look 
upon clergymen as a worthless class — old women 
in trousers. Up to this, clergymen had always,, 
wisely, no doubt, taken his open, or implied in- 
sults meekly. He would teach his old friend, 
grown into what he despised, a lesson. 

He did not pronounce the word, “Ready!” or 
wait for it to be pronounced. He was not so igno- 
rant as to not know the rules of boxing. The 


13 


The County Seat. 

promptness with which his challenge was accepted 
may have driven the thought of rules from his 
mind. The probabilities, however, are that he 
was under the power of the habit of rough-and- 
tumble fighting, in which he had engaged for so 
many years, and in which he was so justly cele- 
brated. Before Emory’s guard was up, he was 
struck a stinging blow on the ear. He was dazed 
for a moment. But for only a moment. The 
next thing of which those who were about were 
aware was Ike’s turning a half somersault in the 
air, and coming to the stone flooring on his head 
and shoulders. He had gone cleanly over a chair. 
He was not hurt. That is, his hurts were not 
such as a rough-and-tumble fighter would think 
of giving attention. But he was greatly sur- 
prised. He got up slowly, looked dully at Emory 
for a moment, his hands hanging loosely at his 
sides, then, deliberately removing his gloves, said, 
absently : 

a I’m no hog! I know when I’ve had enough! 
But how in thunder’d you do it, Em?” 

Emory did not remain at the hotel for break- 
fast. 

His mother greeted him quietly, but very ten- 
derly. Then she sat feasting her eyes tin him. 
Finally she said: 

“How much you do remind me of your father, 


14 


How Baldy Won 

in your clericals! He never disgraced them! I 
hope you never may !” 

“That I may not, 1 guess I’d better take them 
off !” Emory replied, with a laugh. 

“Why?” — a little anxiously. 

He told her of his experience that morning 
with Ike Sterling. 

The mother said: 

“The action was scarcely clerical, Emory; but 
I do not see how you could well have done other- 
wise. I could not easily endure having a coward 
for a son. Isaac Sterling belongs to a good fam- 
ily. I knew his father and mother well. Each 
of them was of good descent. The father’s 
father’s father ” 

But I shall spare the reader Ike Sterling’s pedi- 
gree. Mrs. Emberson, in common with all South- 
ern people of old family, was a great believer in 
family, and in its saving influence on its members 
to the latest generation. When she was through 
with the pedigree — which Emory knew thoroughly 
already, as he did that of every one of whom he 
had heard his mother speak much, and he had 
heard her speak of Ike a great deal in past years, 
for she had warned him more against this same 
Ike than against any one else in the community, 
knowing the influence that such a chronic fighter 
would be certain to have on a boy of Emory’s 


I 5 


The County Seat. 

nature — when, I say, she was through with the 
pedigree, Mrs. Emberson added, with the light of 
admiration in her eyes : 

"It may be that your knocking Isaac over will 
do him good. Let us hope it may ! And it seems 
to me that there are occasions when even a clergy- 
man should not forget that he is a man, but re- 
member it emphatically! For instance, were I a 
inan — even a clergyman — I would take the meas- 
ures necessary to stop the tongue of the speaker, 
in case I should hear a woman maligned !” 

This was a favorite theme with Mrs. Ember- 
son. When she got thoroughly started on it, she 
did not know when to stop. This came of the fact 
that, soon after she was married and moved into 
the rectory in a strange place, a young woman of 
that community had been driven to suicide by 
tittle-tattle, which had originated in a remark 
made by a loafer of gentle extraction to loafers of 
gentle extraction as she was passing a place where 
loafers of gentle extraction were wont to congre- 
gate. The remark would not have been made 
had the young woman had a natural protector. 
Mrs. Emberson then vowed that if she ever had a 
son she would so rear him that he would be a pro- 
tector of females. And she had kept her word. 

To cut her off from this theme, Emory said: 

“Yes, mother, I know. And I haven't for- 


1 6 How Baldy Won 

gotten the advice you gave me when I went away 
to school. Do you remember? You called me to 
your room, and told me that you did not believe 
in shooting and cutting — that you thought there 
was too much of those things in the South. Then 
you told me that God had given me two hands 
and so formed and attached them that I could 
make fists and strike with them. You, if I am 
not mistaken, went so far as to advise me to go 
to a master and learn how to defend myself and 
injure the enemy with these natural weapons \” 

The mother shook her head smilingly. 

“You have forgotten,” said Emory, with mock 
seriousness, “but I have not ! And I have profited 
fairly well by your advice.” 

All of the first day of his visit home Emory 
spent with his mother. She told him much of 
what had occurred during his absence. His at- 
tention was taken most fully by the relation of 
how misfortune had overtaken one of the oldest 
and most influential families of a neighboring 
county. This had made it necessary that a young 
lady, sufficiently connected with that family to be 
considered a member of It. should do something 
for her own support. She had a maternal uncle 
in Fordville. Through his influence, together 
with that of Mrs. Emberson, she had procured the 
Fordville school. All had gone well with her till 


The County Seat 17 

she had been compelled to punish the unruly son 
of a miner — coal having been discovered in the 
region and many rough people having been 
brought into the community to dig and handle it. 
The boy was so big and lusty that the teacher 
could not have hurt him much had she been so 
disposed, which she was not ; for she was one of 
the gentlest little creatures living. But there was 
the natural enmity upon the part of the new- 
comers against the old inhabitants — for which 
there was not lack of irritation in the contempt 
with which the old inhabitants treated the new- 
comers. The young lady was, consequently, be- 
ing most unmercifully talked about. 

The next morning Emory came down without 
his clericals — in a somewhat worn street suit. 
The mother wanted to know the reason for- this 
change. Emory replied, with a laugh, that it was 
in the line of her expressed hope that he might 
not disgrace his clericals, adding: 

“I have had something like a fight in them 
already. Were I to have a real fight in them my 
clerical prospects would probably be ruined. As 
it is, I hope that an account of my escapade with 
Ike .Sterling may not come to the ears of the 

Bishop r 

The mother laughed: 

“1 hope you haven’t a fight in prospect.” 


i8 How Baldy Won 

Emory laughed back: 

“No” 

Then he happened to think of what the mother 
had told him about the young lady’s punishing 
the boy, of the talk it had occasioned, and added : 

“But I may have to defend the reputation of a 
schoolmarm !” with no thought that there was the 
slightest probability of such a complication be- 
fore him. 

The mother smiled, and said : “In such a case, 
1 have no doubt that you would do it promptly 
and emphatically !” 

On that day, and on every day thereafter while 
he was at home, Emory was out and about. He 
knew everybody, everybody knew him. He was a 
born aristocrat in that there was no one from 
whom he was out of sympathy. He would sit and 
talk with Bob McDonald, the shoemaker, or Mr. 
Shad, the grocer, as unconscious of self as he was 
when he was in conversation with the Judge of 
the County Court, the Rector, or the Bishop — 
enjoying intercourse with one of the latter no 
more than lie did with either of the former — ex- 
cepting that his faculties might be brought into 
more active play in one case than in the other. 
Hut of this he was not certain ; for, while the 
Judge, or the Rector, or the Bishop might know 
more about some things than the shoemaker or 


19 


The County Seat. 

the grocer, the shoemaker or the grocer might 
know more about some other things than the 
Judge, the Rector or the Bishop. And Emory 
had a vague suspicion that the things of every-day 
life and interest would be of as great importance 
to him as a clergyman, as jurisprudence, history, 
or even theology. Then to his mind the acquisi- 
tion of facts and theories is not the most important 
result of social relations. Though a very young 
man, he had come to see that there is a soul of 
the community, some of the strength of which 
must come into the soul of the individual, or it is 
weak indeed. He had had indistinct wonderings 
if that might not be one of the truths involved 
in: “A new commandment I give unto you, that 
ye love one another.” But I may be putting 
speculations — or discoveries — in his mind that were 
not there till many years later. The fact is that 
he was of a social nature, and liked a human be- 
ing — to say nothing of other beings now — as spon- 
taneously as the sun shines. 

One of his favorites was Jim Shelby, the black- 
smith. He would sit in the shade of Jim's shop, 
and, as Jim said, “gab” with him by the hour 
about anything or nothing, but especially about 
local politics, in which Jim was always inter- 
ested, in which he was as well informed as the 


20 


How Baldy Won 

Judge was in law, the Rector in ecclesiastical 
history, or the Bishop in theology. 

One day Jim said, in his deep, round voice: 

“Em, you’ve made a mistake !” 

“In what?” asked Emory. 

“In startin’ in to be a minister.” 

“Why?” 

“ ’Cause you ha’n’t * cut out for one ! You’ll 
set ’round and smoke an’ gab with me. You treat 
everybody as y’r ekal. You won’t stand no non- 
sense. You ha’n’t got enough pretendin’ about 
you. You ha’n’t offish enough for a minister o’ 
til’ gospil !” 

The very next day Emory stepped into Mr. 
Shad’s store for a stogy. He was a regular South- 
erner in his openhandedness. There was a crowd 
in the store. He passed the box of stogies about. 
An immense rough fellow, who was sitting on the 
counter, took two. As he did so, he made a re- 
mark, in the general conversation which was go- 
ing on, bringing in the name of Miss East, the 
school teacher, which revealed that he was the 
father of the boy who, probably — taking the 
father into the account — could hardly, on general 
principles, have received the punishment that he 
deserved from the hands of a female. The re- 
mark it is not necessary to record. It was one of 
those observations which come to the surface when 


21 


The County Seat. 

the mud at the bottom of almost any community 
is stirred — a verbal bubble charged with foul gas. 

Emory looked hard at the fellow when he took 
two stogies. The battery was charged. The re- 
mark surcharged it. An impudent look from the 
speaker set it off. Emory said: 

“Your head should be broken l” 

The man sprang from the counter. But he did 
not reach the floor on his feet. The part of his 
anatomy which first touched was the back of his 
head. When he came to consciousness of what 
had happened, he lay on the broad of his back, in 
the saliva with which the chewers had liberally 
covered the planks. Emory had struck him in 
the course of his passage from the counter. His 
companions first laughed, then frowned. Emory 
had struck — not only the individual, but also the 
class. The members of that class present made 
for him. The box, with its contents, was crushed. 
Emory would have been crushed as well had it not 
been for Ike Sterling and Jim Shelby, who were 
passing, and stepped in to see what was the row. 

Though Emory said nothing to her about it, 
the action of her son in this case came to the ears 
of Mrs. Emberson. She kissed him and wept over 
him, saying: 

“My training has not been in vain. I have now 
somebody to do for me what I cannot do myself — 


22 How Baldy Won 

punish those who say unwarranted things about 
women P 

Emory said, laughingly: 

“It’s fortunate, mother, that I hadn’t on my 
clericals P 

The mother’s form straightened and her eyes 
flashed, as she said : 

“You do not suppose that any right-minded 
person could think that you could. have disgraced 
your clericals by such action? It would have — 
honored — I came near saying sanctified — them! 
It would not have disgraced the surplice and stole 
had you been in priestly vestment !” 

It is not hard to see where Emory got his 
knightly disposition ! He replied : 

“I hope the Hector and the Bishop may see 
things as you do !” 

But they did not. 

Though Emory was not deposed from the 
diaconate, he was under a cloud. He was looked 
upon as a rash young man. Still his family was 
of great influence in the diocese and in the parish. 
There was a consultation between the Rector and 
the Bishop, and the former took him as a sort of 
assistant. I say a sort of assistant advisedly. It 
was understood that he was to not wear his cleri- 
cals — he wanting to not do so, and the Hector de- 
siring that they might not run the risk of being — 


23 


The County Seat. 

as lie saw things — disgraced. The result was that 
Emory was looked upon as neither clergyman or 
layman. He grew restless. He had had some ex- 
perience as a writer. He made up his mind to 
make an attempt to get into journalism. Gfoing 
to New York, he finally succeeded in getting en- 
gagement as a reporter. He rose rapidly. But 
a restlessness was upon him. This prevented 
him from devoting himself to any department of 
journalism. It grew till he could stay with no 
paper. It increased till he could remain in no 
city. In the course of three years he had worked 
in nearly every considerable city in America, in 
many inconsiderable ones, and on so many papers 
that it was with difficulty that he could recall the 
names of some of them. 

At the end of this time he had distinguished 
himself as a reporter of reckless daring. He 
would tackle anybody or anything. A rough 
named Morley had terrorized a Western com- 
munity. Emory appeared in that community. 
The rough did a peculiarly wicked and cruel 
thing. The city editor asked the assembled re- 
porters for a volunteer to write up the affair. 
Emory volunteered. The other reporters tried to 
dissuade him from the undertaking. There was 
more danger both in gathering the facts and in. 


24 How Baldy Won 

publishing them than the average man cared to 
face. 

A few days after the story appeared he was met 
on the street by a man, who said: 

“I wouldn’t have written what you’ve written 
about Morley for this city and all of its wealth !” 
“Why?” 

“He’ll kill you !” 

“Tell him,” answered Emory, “that I simply 
did my duty to the paper which employs me, and 
to the community of which I am for the time 
being a member. Tell him, too, that I would be a 
fool did I not go ready to take care of myself 
under all circumstances !” 

“Why do you tell me to tell him?” 

“Because, I take it, you wouldn’t have gone to 
the trouble to warn me without an understand- 
ing with him !” 

The man turned away. Emory concluded 
afterwards that his words had been repeated to 
Morley — so concluded from the following circum- 
stances. A reporter had taken to drink. Emory 
was trying to save him ; for he was a likable fel- 
low; then Emory never forgot, though he never 
said anything about it, that he was in deacon’s 
orders, and always had in mind the doing of a 
little good, an opportunity presenting itself natur- 
ally — realizing that the forcing of an opportunity 


25 


The County Seat. 

would bring upon him the sneers of the class with 
which fortune had cast him — newspaper folk 
being the most cynical of all respectable people. 

He traced the erring reporter to Morley’s, the 
worst dive in the city. The place reached, he did 
not hesitate. He went in. 

He found the man for whom he was looking in 
a large room, in which there w^ere both billiard 
and card tables, in a poker game. He said: 

“Come, Mac !” 

“Won’ do’t !” Mac replied. 

“All right !” said Emory, knowing his man, 
“I've done all I can. Go right on ! Drink your- 
self to death ! The sooner you’re gone the better 
for you and your friends J” and turned away. 

“Jis’ wait a min’t. Soon’s I win this pot!” 

“Very well !” answered Emory, crossing the 
room and leaning against a cue rack. 

As he stood there Morley came in, marched up 
to him threateningly, and asked roughly: 

“What you doin’ here?” 

“After some of your work !” replied Emory. 

Mr. Morley’s powers of repartee being not 
brilliant, he replied: 

“You git out o’ here !” With this he moved to- 
wards Emory. Emory reached back and drew for- 
ward sufficiently for the gaslight to glitter on it. 


26 


How Baldy Won 

the handle of a hairbrush, ivory-mounted, which 
he happened to have in his pocket. 

Happened to have? He was passing through 
his “hair-oil days," as the expression went, over a 
cpiarter of a century ago, and he took great care 
of his long, slightly-waving, dark locks. 

At the sight of the brush handle Morley stopped 
short. Emory smiled. His bluff had worked. 
Morley evidently thought that the reporter was 
ready “to take care of himself.” He turned and 
went away. 

When, a little later, Emory passed with Mac 
through the barroom, w r hich was in front of the 
card and billiard room, Morley called out to him : 

“Come, old man, and have a drink!” 

“No, thank you; but Ell take a cigar.” 

Morley w^as Emory’s suborn friend from that 
moment. 

In another city a desperado, who w r as also a 
barber, threatened to take Emory’s life for some- 
thing w r hich he had written. Needing a shave, 
Emory went in and took that barber’s chair. 

The barber v r as dumbfounded. But he per- 
formed his office carefully. He drew no blood. 

Emory was a dashing fellow, and set the fash- 
ion for the set which he joined wherever he w r ent. 
In this city there was a young man of about his 
height and build who was said to resemble him 


The County Seat. 27 

and who followed his lead in dress closely, as well 
as in manner and walk. This young man was 
waylaid and the life nearly beaten out of him. It 
was thought that he was a victim to the mis- 
fortune of being so nearly a double and his power 
of imitation. 

During his prostration and convalescence the 
poor fellow would have suffered privation had it 
not been that Emory collected money for and con- 
tributed himself as heavily as he could to his 
needs. 

In these reportorial days of her son, Mrs. Em- 
berson was made very happy by a report which 
went the rounds of the papers — to the effect that 
he had punished a man of standing, the man of 
standing having made a slighting remark about 
a woman who was passing a club window, in 
which Emory was sitting with him. 


28 


How Baldy Won 


CHAPTER III. 
emory Visits the bishop. 

The last bit of reporting that Emory did was 
the writing up of the opening to settlement of the 
new Southwest, as the region lying south of 
Whackston, east of the Quicksand, which had 
been purchased from the Osage Indians by the 
Government, was called, of which the most im- 
portant portion is the Butternut Valley. 

This was done soon after he had made one of 
his too frequent changes, and so well done that 
it distinguished him upon the paper with which 
he bad so recently engaged. 

That was sufficient reason for him to take 
flight. 

To that end, he had gone to the treasurer to 
draw the small amount which was due him, when 
he was handed a letter. 

The scratchy old-fashioned hand of the ad- 
dress surprised him greatly. There was only one 


The County Seat. 29 

tii an living who could write so abominably — the 
Bishop. 

In handing the letter, the treasurer smiled. 
Emory glanced at the address again, and also 
smiled. Though he had never consciously done 
anything which, in his opinion, should have been 
considered unworthy of “the cloth, ” his lan- 
guage and actions, in his intercourse with “the 
staff” had not always been those which are con- 
ventionally expected of a clergyman. 

They would not have been conventional had he 
let it be known that he was a deacon ; but in that 
case, they might have been somewhat different. 

What had caused the treasurer first and then 
Emory to smile were the titles of the address: 

“The Rev . E. M. Emberson, B.D . 


Since he had been in journalism Emory had 
not heard from the Bishop. Having been silent 
so long, why should he write now? There was 
another surprise for Emory. When he opened 
the envelope there fell out a draft for one hun- 
dred dollars. His first thought was that some- 
thing must have happened to his mother — an ac- 
cident, illness, maybe death. It may easily be 
imagined — taking into account the disposition of 
his imagination to torture him — with what a 


30 


How Baldy Won 

trembling hand he unfolded the letter. He was 
so pale that the treasurer said: 

“Steady, old man !” 

But the first sentence was reassuring. It ran 
in the Bishop’s formal style: 

“Through your esteemed mother — whom I am 
glad to be able to report as being in excellent 
health — I have obtained your address, and write 
to ask you to come to me as soon as you con- 
veniently can.” 

The letter went on: 

“I am an old man. There is no telling when 
the Master may call me. I am not sure that I 
may not have done you an injustice. If so, I 
would like to make amends before I ‘go hence to 
be no more seen.’ Since I saw you a change has 
been wrought in my mind. This may be be- 
cause I am in the edge of the shadow which is per- 
ceptibly deepening, because I am aware of the 
sinking of my path into the valley, and because a 
dear child — my granddaughter — but I cannot 
write about that ! Then the use of the pen has 
come to be painful to me. You will do me a 
favor by dropping a line to me by the return 
post, telling me when I may hope to see you. I 
am sending you a draft. Use the money which 
it will place in your hands freely. It justly b^ 
longed to your father.” 


The County Seat. 

The treasurer assisted in cashing the draft. 
Emory’s luggage was light, and he already had 
it ready for Hitting; so in another hour he was 
aboard an express train, which was pulling out, 
his face homeward. 

Two evenings later he was sitting with his 

mother. 

Her hair was a little grayer than when he last 
saw her, and there may have been a few more 
wrinkles in her strong, kindly face. But other- 
wise she was unchanged. She regarded her son 
with an anxious pride. The anxiety expressed 
itself in a question: 

“Emory, when are you going to settle down?” 

He replied by asking: 

“Did I leave my clericals here?” 

“Yes,” the mother replied, with a smile of 
thankfulness to Someone, “they are in the ward- 
robe in your room.” 

Emory arose and walked to a door. The 
mother heard him ascending a stairway from the 
front hall, into which the door opened. 

In a short time he came down and re-entered 
the sitting-room. He was in full clerical attire. 
The mother’s face glowed with an expression of 
the deepest pleasure. He walked to her chair, 
bent over her, kissed her, and said: 

“Now, mother, I’m settled!” 


32 


How Baldy Won 

She threw her arms about his neck, wept quietly 
for a little, then sighed: 

“My prayers are answered !” 

And the subject was not further referred to by 
the mother or the son. 

The next morning, Uncle Dave, who had been 
Emory’s grandfather’s coachman for half a cen- 
tury, and who now, as straight as an arrow, was 
Emory’s mother’s stableman, saddled a lithe and 
powerful bay running mare. She was no longer 
young, but she was still the best saddle-mare in 
the county. Emory, when a boy, had ridden her 
in many a race — he having been stolen away from 
his mother, by an uncle, who was a turfman, for 
that purpose, and she had always been his favor- 
ite mount. 

Though Nellie had not seen him since he went 
away to take up the lead pencil, she whinnied 
gladly at his approach. He rubbed her nose, 
patted her neck, stroked her mane, and, pronounc- 
ing her name lovingly, vaulted into the saddle. 
She curvetted and frolicked about. Uncle Dave 
yah-yahed and exclaimed : 

“De ole gal knows you, Massa Em !” 

Emory rode to the hotel, hallooed, and Ike 
Sterling rushed out to take his hand, saying: 

“Glad to see you, E — Mr. Emberson !” — the 


The County Seat. 33 

change in appellation accompanied by a good- 
natured laugh. 

“Em will do !” was the laughing answer. 

Ike, grinning, shook his head with: 

“I never fool with lightnin’ but once !” 

The next place at which Emory drew rein was 
the blacksmith shop. As he galloped up, Jim 
Shelby came out, wiping his right hand on his 
leathern apron, and crying: 

“Hello, Em! Where’d you drop from? Th* 
old mare’s frisky this mornin’ ! An' she ha’n’fc 
th* on'y one glad to see you in these parts, neither, 
be sure 0’ that !” 

From the blacksmith shop Emory rode to Mr. 
Shad's. Knowing that the grocer was growing 
old, Emory dismounted in front of his store 
and walked in. It being somewhat dim within, 
Mr. Shad did not recognize his visitor at once — - 
looked inquiringly over his glasses till he caught 
a smile. Then he let go the paper in which he 
was tying up some pounds of sugar, hurried 
around the end of the counter, and sputtered, in 
a hearty way that he had : 

“Well, well, my boy, how are you ! Haven’t 
seen you for — let me see !” 

Emory aided him to recollect. 

Mr. Shad added: 

“So long as that ! Yes ! How time does fly I 


34 


How Baldy Won 

And you youngsters keep better track of it than 
we old fellows! 7 ’ 

After a moment Emory said: 

“Eve come in to pay you what I owe you, Mr. 
Shad !” 

“What you owe me ! 77 was Mr. Shad’s half ques- 
tion, half exclamation of confusion, at the remark. 

“Yes! Do you not remember that the last 
time you were in the act of selling me a smoke a 
hundred or so stogies were smashed?” 

Air. Shad replied, earnestly: 

“You don't owe me a cent ! But I owe you 
something ! The young lady whose reputation 
you were protecting when the stogies were de- 
stroyed is, as you may know, through her mother, 
a niece of mine. She has changed her name — 
much to your mother’s disliking, who, counting 
everyone's descent through the father, thinks that 
Miss Eas/ has married beneath her. But she has 
married an honest and industrious young man ; 
and she is fond of Mm. I would like to have vou 
call upon them.” 

“I should be glad to do so !” 

“She owes you her thanks. Your striking the 
miner changed the drift of opinion in her favor, 
and drew to her the attention of the good man 
who is now her husband. He — for she is a 
good girl — owes you thanks as well as she. 1 


35 


The County Seat. 

have heard them both say many times that they 
would lx * glad of a chance to pay them. And I 
owe you this !” 

As Mr. Shad had spoken lie had passed behind 
the counter, reached to a shelf and taken down 
a box of Havana stogies, which he now handed to 
Emory. 

Emory saw that refusal of the gift would give 
his old friend pain. So he opened the box, took 
out a handful of its contents — which are darker 
and smoother than the ordinary stogies — handed 
it back, requesting that it be kept till he should 
call, or send Uncle Dave for it, went out, remount- 
ed and rode away. 

He was both a natural and a trained horseman. 
He sat erectly and proudly. He was a lover of 
animals. Between him and his mount there was 
sympathy. II is pride of affectionate mastery de- 
scended into the horse. The horse’s strength and 
affectionate obedience ascended into him. As he 
rode out of the village that morning, everybody 
who saw him looked, and turned, hurried to a 
window, or took other trouble, to look again, be- 
cause everybody knew him and Nellie, liked him 
and had not seen him for years; but not only be- 
cause of these things; he and Nellie made a pic- 
ture to be remembered. 

He was out, not simply for pleasure, but, also. 


36 


How Baldy Won 

to call upon the Bishop, whose See City was a 
dozen miles away. 

The venerable old man greeted him with a 
pleasure in which there was an element which 
seemed to be not of this world. 

He said: 

“Your note telling me of your kind concession 
to my request” — which note, by the way, Emory 
had found time to drop in a box on his way to the 
train which had brought him over the first stage 
of his journey home, having written it while a 
porter was bringing down his traps at the hotel 
which he was leaving — “your note was a relief to 
me. I feared that you might not come — that you 
might feel that I had treated you so unjustly that 
you could not forgive me. I grow less conven- 
tional as I approach the end. I was simply an 
ecclesiast when I condemned your striking the 
man who maligned the young woman who had no 
kinsman who was capable of defending her. I am 
more than an ecclesiast now. The rochet and the 
crosier, and the other insignia of my office, used 
to mean a great deal to me. I still see their im- 
portance as symbols of that authority without 
which a diocese can no more succeed than can an 
army without the authority invested in the gen- 
eral, than can the human body, save in some pri- 
mary regards, fulfill its functions without the ex- 


37 


The County Seat. 

istence and activity of the will. I am fully aware 
that when the symbols of authority disappear the 
authority itself is apt to be not recognized. But 
the symbols of the Episcopacy, in and of them- 
selves, are nothing to me any more. I used — as 
your father, were he still in the flesh, would tell 
you — to value highly the place of Episcopal honor 
in the procession and in the sanctuary. But now 
I would rather lead than follow in the procession, 
because the leading would bring me nearer the 
cross; I would rather kneel at the front of the 
altar than sit on the throne. I have come to the 
conclusion that you were right in striking the 
brutal fellow who was aspersing the reputation of 
a defenseless woman. I should have made it a 
reason for advancing you instead of holding it 
an obstacle in your way. Will you forgive me?” 

“My dear Bishop!” exclaimed Emory, brokenly, 
finding it hard to keep back the tears. “Forgive 
you ! I was not fit to be a clergyman then. I 
am not fit to be one now. The idea of a deacon’s 
forgiving a Bishop, and a deacon, at that, who 
has for three years been leading the life of a re- 
porter !” 

The old man said, with emotion: 

“It is not a question between Bishop and dea- 
con, but between man and man ! In my official 
pride, I condemned, and prevented from serving 


38 How Baldy Won 

the church, a young man for doing what I see now 
to have been a Christian duty. The Christ, when 
He purified the temple, and when He verbally 
struck the pharisees, did essentially what you did 
when you struck the one who was so foul of 
mouth.” 

The good man paused for a moment, then, hav- 
ing mastered himself, went on: 

“ A few months ago, I followed a dear child to 
the grave. She died of a broken heart. She tvas 
as pure as the morning. But the devil — in the 
shape of a man, a so-called gentleman — because 
he could not ruin her in one way — I know the 
facts in the case ! •” 

The hard look came into Emory’s face — the look 
which the man of high standing saw when he was 
taught that even a man of high standing must be 
careful as to what he says in relation to a woman 
who passes the window of his club — the hard look 
came into Emory’s face, and he asked: 

“Why didn’t you send for me then, Bishop?” 

The Bishop smiled sadly, the old habit of 
thought came back to him, and he replied: 

“The clergyman should be a man of peace !” 

But he immediately added: 

“Yet, old man though I am — but let that go ! 
— she is now where only the truth can be told! 
I am not glad that you came that I may tell you 


39 


The County Seat. 

about her, and what her experience cost me in 
sorrow and indignation. I want to make a repa- 
ration. As what would be probably the last offi- 
cial act of my life, I would like to advance you to 
the priesthood. Then I desire to make a con- 
fession to you. You wondered, no doubt, at re- 
ceiving a draft from me. Before I satisfy your 
curiosity take this!” 

He. pushed across the table between them a bit 
of paper. At this Emory glanced, and looked up 
with wide eyes. He had wondered when he re- 
ceived the draft for a hundred dollars. But here 
was a surprise indeed ! The bit of paper was a 
check for considerably over a thousand dollars. 

With lowered eyes and flushed face, the Bishop 
continued : 

“The confession is this : Your father was a 
man of large intellectual endowments, of great 
learning, of wonderful eloquence, but of a gentle 
and submissive character — a” — with a humorous 
smile — “in the last respect, of course, very differ- 
ent man from his son. You are an illustration 
of what seems to be a fact, that the son is more 
apt to be like the mother than like the father. 
Anybody who knows you can hardly doubt that you 
will never submit to a wrong without vigorous 
protest. That very thing your father did. And 
I, his Bishop, am the man who wronged him 1” 


40 


How Baldy Won 

“How?” asked Emory, his eyes narrowing and 
bis lips stiffening. 

“Be patient !” responded the Bishop, somewhat 
sternly, “and I will tell you ! What is represent- 
ed by the draft which I sent you and the check 
which I have just given you is an amount of 
money which was justly coming to your father.” 

“Oh, only a matter of money !” said- Emory with 
relief. 

“Yes,” said the Bishop, “but I wronged him ! 
He had earned the money. I withheld it from 
him on a quibble.” 

“Take it back,” said Emory, “and say nothing 
more about it !” 

“No,” was the answer; “you must keep it! I 
beg of you to allow me that easing of my con- 
science !” 

The request was something like a prayer. 

Emory put the check in his pocket and rose to 

go. 

“Would you not like to be priested ?” the Bishop 
asked. 

“Yes.” 

“Will you allow me to priest you ?” 

In the tone in which this question was asked 
there was again the hint of a prayer. 

“Yes.” 


The County Seat. 


41 


CHAPTER IV. 

THE DOG-SERMON. 

Fordville had an oldest inhabitant, who may 
have enjoyed that distinction because of his good 
habits, among which was that of going to church. 
He did not remember seeing a larger congrega- 
tion in St. Luke than that which assembled to 
see Emory priested. 

The members of the family were there in force, 
of course. The same was true of the friends of 
the family. It was also true of Emory's personal 
friends. And a priesting was not of sufficiently 
frequent occurrence to not attract the curious. 

Ike Sterling and Jim Shelby — the latter in a 
brand-new suit of broadcloth, in which he did not 
seem very comfortable — were in conspicuous 
places, in accordance with an arrangement which 
Emory had personally made. Mr. Shad was not 
absent — though he sat still during all of the pro- 


42 


How Baldy Won 

ceedings, in a fear that did he attempt to follow 
them he would make a mistake, and, possibly, he 
being a Methodist, as a mild protest against ritual. 
Scattered through the assembly were a number of 
miners, notably Sandy Tom — whom Emory had 
taken on the wing, so to speak, between the coun- 
ter and the floor in Mr. Shad’s store. 

The ceremony over, Emory found most of the 
congregation waiting for him in the church, in 
the vestibule and on the sward in the churchyard 
— many of them anxious to see him, out of a curi- 
osity as to whether his elevation had made any 
difference in his appearance, if they accounted to 
themselves for their curiosity, which is not likely; 
some to take him by the hand, congratulate him 
and wish him prosperity; a few to give him ad- 
vice. 

Said Ike Sterling: 

“If you’re as successful in knocking out the 
world, the flesh and thexlevil as you were once in 
knocking me out, Em, you will be the most suc- 
cessful clergyman of the century P 

Emory laughed: 

“The fact that I knocked them out in combina- 
tion would seem to suggest that I would not have 
much difficulty in knocking either of them out 
did I happen to meet it, or him alone P 

Jim Shelby, who heard this retort, laughed. 


43 


The County Seat. 

frowned, shook his head, said to Ike : “I fear he’ll 
a hays be the same Em!” took Emory aside, and 
said to him: 

'“You’re too natr’al ! — Em a plain man. I 
know suthin’ ’bout poundin’ iron, slioein’ bosses, 
and talkin’ politics, but I ha’n’t much on talkin’ 
religion ! By settin’ ’round and gabbin’ to me — 
or lettin’ me gab, throwin’ in a word now and 
then — you’ve done me a dam — I beg your pardon ! 
— you’ve done me more good than you’d a’ done 
in bein’ offish wi’ me. But thet ha’n’t the ques- 
tion ! I want you to succeed ! I want you to be 
a Bishop ! And you can on’y get on as a parson 
by bein’ diff’ent ! You musn’t smoke — in pub- 
lic ! You musn’t set ’roun’ an’ tell stories — no 
matter how interestin’, inn’cent and well told 
they may be. You’ve never told stories ’at hadn’t 
ought t’ be told ! You mustn’t be a man ! When 
a feller sw r ears in your presence you must look 
horrified — even ’f you think ’at the sitiation justi- 
fies the strength o’ the observation ! Do y’r 
smokin’ ’hind th’ door, an’ eat coffee to kill y’r 
breath! I’d like t’ ’ave you al’ays jist as you are, 
you know thet ! No man can be liked ’s much ’s 
I like you an’ not know it ! Y’r open ways ’ill 
save more fellers like me. But we don’t count ! 
As I said afore, I want you t’ be a Bishop ! And 
thet you can’t be ’f you ha’n’t a kind o’ hypocrite ! 


44 How Baldy Won 

Mind what I say, my boy! ’E you don’t, you’ll 
regret ’t !” 

And away good, whole-souled Jim Shelby went, 
leaving in Emory’s mind the question whether he 
wanted to succeed, according to the common 
standard, at the price that had been suggested. 
Was the occupancy of a fat rectorate, or the at- 
tainment of a bishopric as desirable as the reach- 
ing and helping such men as Jim Shelby? 

Jim — who had drawn Emory to the side of the 
church, and spoken in a low tone — was but gone 
when the miner who has been specified came up 
awkwardly and said: 

“I was a-wonderin’, sir, hif you’d haccept my 
congratulations ?” 

“Certainly!” answered Emory. “Why shouldn’t 
I?” 

“Hafter you — hafter hour trouble,” the miner 
then said, “I done a good bit o’ thinkin’ ! I ’ave 
daughters o’ my hown. And the man ’at said 
the thing h about one o’ them ’at I said habout the 
schoolmarm would ’ave to square haccounts with 
me ! As to the boy, I ’ave found that ’e deserved 
a good deal more ’n ’e got !” 

“Let us drop that !” said Emory. “I’m going 
to preach on next Sunday. As I have never 
preached but two or three times, you will not hear 
much, but will you come?” 


45 


The County Seat. 

“Hi will, sir, though hit’ll be the second time 
Hi’ve been in church since Hi’ve been in Hameri- 
ca — countin’ to-day!” 

And the miner stepped aside to make room for 
Mr. Shad, who approached with a grin, saying: 

“I’m sorry, Emory, that you’ll have to pull in 
so much harness. I’d a good deal rather have you 
a Methodist ! But I hope that you may be en- 
abled to do some effective pulling for the right 
in ‘this naughty world,’ as I believe one of your 
printed prayers says. That’s a good way to put 
it, even if the prayer is called a collect and is in a 
book, for this is, indeed a ‘naughty world,’ and it 
is needed that we all do what pulling we can in 
the hope of getting it out of the slough ! I know 
something about you, Emory. You have a free 
hand w r hen it is open, and a ready one when it is 
clenched. And your tongue will be quick enough 
— no doubt about that ! But the harness ! — that’s 
what fills me with fear. Don’t forget, my boy, 
that pulling the load is more important than the 
harness in which the pulling is done!” 

“Thank you, Mr. Shad,” said Emory with a 
smile, but seriously. “I shall try to remember 
your injunction !” 

At this point Emory’s mother, whom he had 
already seen in the sacristy, after coming from 
the church, came up and said: 


46 


How Baldy Won 

“Emory, here is a lady who would like very 
much to know you. Allow me to present Mrs. 
Stumblesome.” 

Emory bowed to a small, plump, very pretty 
young matron, who said, with an attractive blush: 

“I have asked your mother to present me to 
you, Mr. Emberson, that I may thank you for a 
great service which you once rendered me — for 
which I would have thanked you immediately 
after its rendering had I not been prostrated.” 

Emory was puzzled. 

Seeing this, Mrs. Stumblesome added: 

“When I was Miss East.” 

“Oh !” exclaimed Emory. “But you needn’t 
thank me ! I thoroughly enjoyed what I did upon 
the occasion to which you refer. I do not know 
whether I am a high, or a low, or a broad church- 
man, but there is one thing quite certain, and that 
is that I belong to the church militant. If I only 
enjoy preaching, and parish work, and minister- 
ing the sacraments as much as I have always en- 
joyed fistic exercises, I shall be happy, and possi- 
bly do some good!” 

To the laugh with which this was said, Mrs. 
Stumblesome laughed back, and stepped aside that 
others might approach the new-made priest. 

At the end of half an hour or so, the congre- 
gation began to fade away. 


47 


The County Seat. 

When all were gone — though he knew that the 
Bishop and his mother were awaiting him in the 
sacristy — he yielded to a great desire to be alone, 
and stepped out among the tombs — the church- 
yard being the village cemetery. 

Under some trees at a fence at the rear of the 
church he saw a figure — lithe and crouching as 
an Indian. A friendly, honest, but secretive 
smile came to the lips of this figure — the smile of 
a son of the woods and the mountains. 

“Halloo, Red,” cried Emory, “come here !” 

The figure shook its head, and withdrew more 
into the shade. 

As did the prophet of another religion from 
that into the priesthood of which he had just en- 
tered with relation to the mountain, Emory did 
with relation to the figure: as it would not come 
to him, he went to it. Extending his hand, he 
said : 

“Urn awfully glad to see you ! Why didn't you 
come in to the service?” 

With a glance at the mountains, in full view 
from where they stood, Red replied: 

“I don’t belong inside !” 

His spirit entered Emory, and he looked yearn- 
ingly off towards the looming woods. But he was 
recalled to the conventional by the voice of his 
mother, from the corner of the church, she hav 


48 How Baldy Won 

ing come out to see what w^as keeping him. He 
said : 

“I must go ! But I am coming to see you. 
What are you doing now?” 

Red grinned. What did he ever do but lead a 
life as free as that of the birds? 

Had the Bishop seen the grin which Emory 
grinned back to Red, he would have thought it not 
very priestly. It was the natural expression of a 
child of nature. It was a counterpart of that of 
Red. These young men were essentially the same. 
They were naturally chums. They understood 
each other without speech. Though Emory’s 
mother was rather shocked at the association, they, 
through their boyhood, were together whenever 
they could manage to be so. To that end, Emory 
had played hooky from school many a time, un- 
der the painful necessity of doing which — painful 
after the fact — Red had never found himself ; for 
it was only when his fancy pointed in that direc- 
tion — which was not often — that he ever darkened 
the door of the little log structure in the moun- 
tains in which the pedagogue denned. 

Had the circumstances of Emory and Red been 
reversed — had the latter been under the restric- 
tions, and had he had the advantages of the manor, 
the school, the college and the university, he would 
have been about such a young man, barring per- 


49 


The County Seat 

sonal appearance, as the former ; while had Emory 
been the son of the mountaineer, had his life been 
as free as the wind which played about the cabin, 
he would have been about such a young man, still 
barring personal appearance, as was the — those 
who did not know lied would have said — lout, 
from whom he now turned away to rejoin his 
mother. 

The father of Red was commonly known as Bee 
Thompson 

But it must not be forgotten that Mrs. Ember- 
son is waiting. 

The priesting dinner was a great spread. 

It over, Emory and the Bishop smoked in 
Emory's room — the Bishop caring to not smoke 
in the presence of the laity — which would have 
accounted largely to Jim Shelby for his being a 
Bishop. 

When their cigars were well going, the Bishop 
said : 

“Emory” — Emory was surprised that he did not 
begin : “My dear young brother” — “Emory, I 
heard some of the congratulations and much of 
the advice which you received after your ordina- 
tion. Most of the former were from the lips only. 
A little, a very little of the latter was good. 
Please forget, now, that I am your Bishop — try to 
think of me as simply an old man, whose life has 


50 


How Baldy Won 

not been very eventful, but who has tried to dis- 
cover the things for which it is worth living — in 
which attempt he has not felt himself to be suc- 
cessful till he is about through with earthly 
things. I would advise you as if you were my 
own son after the flesh as well as after the spirit. 
Never stand by and see anyone wronged without 
entering protest — as vigorous protest as the occa- 
sion demands. Never wrong anyone. Be aggres- 
sive in the interest of whatever is right. Let your 
mistakes be on the side of what is generous in 
thought, word and deed. Look upon the pain 
which comes of loving as a gift of God. Have 
faith in God and man — remembering that you 
cannot have faith in anyone else unless you have 
faith in yourself; that you cannot have faith in 
yourself unless you are all right at the core !” 

To these words Emory made no reply. In view 
of the revelation which the Bishop had made to 
him, with relation to the ecclesiastical treatment 
which his father had received — what reply could 
he make? 

After a short silence the Bishop spoke again: 

“But I must not look backwards at this mo- 
ment. I must look forwards — not in my own in- 
terest, but in the interest of the one to whom I 
have just delegated a portion of the Apostolic Au- 
thority. What do you propose to do, Emory ?” 


The County Seat. 51 

The question caused Emory to remember that 
he had been handed a sealed envelope as he 
passed down a side aisle of the church after he 
was priested. He took it from his pocket and 
opened it. It contained a call to the rectorate of 
one of the strong churches of the diocese. He 
handed this to the Bishop. The Bishop smiled in 
such a way that Emory saw that it was no sur- 
prise to him. He said: 

“This is a great honor ! You will, of course, 
accept F 

“I don't know,” answered Emory. “I have not 
had time to think it over — naturally, as I had no 
idea of what the envelope covered till I opened it. 
At first thought, it seems to me that I might not 
come on very well in so old and conservative a 
parish. I am not conservative, and I doubt if I 
ever can be. I have been at the West a great deal 
during the past three years. I believe that I would 
suit the people out there a great deal better than 
here. You know, Bishop, that I am apt to speak 
out" 

“Yes ; and to strike out P replied the Bishop 
with a smile. 

Emory laughed outright. The Bishop, remem- 
bering that to strike out has a very different sig- 
nification in base ball from what it has in fisti- 
cuffs, joined in the laugh, as he continued: 


52 


How Baldy Won 

“If you accept the call — as I hope you may — 
you will probably have some trouble. But that 
may do you good. It may, also, do the parish no 
harm. Then you would be near your mother !” 

The last consideration decided Emory. He had 
not been with his mother much since he was fif- 
teen years of age — when, at the close of the Civil 
War, he went away to school. She was a vigorous 
woman. But she was growing old. Her husband 
had died when Emory was a babe — saying to her, 
as she stood by his bedside, the infant in her arms: 

“It may be that he has been given to take my 
place in the church !” — words which she had re* 
peated to their son many times through the years 
— notably — and then with long dwelling upon de- 
tails — when he was home after his graduation 
from college — words which had influenced him 
more than anything else possibly, in the direction 
of the calling for which Jim Shelby had expressed 
himself as thinking nature had not fitted him. 
Her two daughters had married and left her. 
They had their own interests and duties. Emory 
was the only one left to her. He went to his table, 
wrote a sentence or two on a sheet of paper, and 
handed it to the Bishop. He had accepted the 
call. The Bishop looked pleased, and said: 

“That is wise V 9 and asked : “When will you en- 
ter upon your duties ?” 


53 


The County Seat. 

“The. Sunday after next if it is so desired.” 

It was so desired. Emory leaped at once into 
great local fame as a preacher. He was thorough- 
ly individual in his way of seeing and putting 
things. His whole aim was to get what he had 
in mind into the minds of those who heard him. 
In this he was successful. For he saw things con- 
cretely. His illustrations were pat, and taken 
from every-day life. For instance, he once, soon 
after entering upon the third year of his rector- 
ate, spoke — in illustrating fidelity — of the going 
from bad to worse of a well-known character of 
the community, who finally died miserably. He 
told how every human being had deserted this 
man — even those who had profited by his lavish 
expenditure of his patrimony — how those who had 
feasted with him had, when he was poor, ragged, 
hungry, turned him from their doors — how he had 
been driven by men, women and children from a 
fellow-creaturehood. Was there no one to stand 
by him ? He had gone away from .God, and 
would not come back. Had he no friend? His 
dog was true to him, followed him everywhere, 
shared exposure, kicks and hunger with him ; and 
when a hunter found him cold in death, frozen 
stiff on a bleak hillside, which once, with hun- 
dreds of r.o'es about, had been his, there the gaunt 
dog was also — on guard over his remains. 


54 How Baldy Won 

“Will that dog be rewarded in Eternity?” asked 
the preacher, stepping back in the pulpit, his 
eyelids half closed, and a white light playing 
between them. “He was certainly not rewarded 
here. He was so weak from the cold and the wet 
c nd the hunger of his long vigil that he could not 
walk. Did anybody lift him and carry him away, 
and warm and feed him? N o. To save trouble 
he was shot, and left where he lay. The master 
had been kind by nature, too kind, if such a thing 
is possible. In his day of wealth, he had had a 
laugh and an open hand for everybody. In his 
death he was buried, with a charity that makes 
one shudder, in the potter’s field. Will man ever 
learn to ‘do unto others as one would have others 
do unto him’ ? Will man ever learn the meaning 
of the pra} r er: ‘Forgive us our trespasses as we 
forgive those who trespass against us’? Never 
till man has learned to not forget kindnesses — 
till man has come to be faithful ! I repeat,” ex- 
claimed Emory, in a tone which quivered with 
passion : “Will that dog be rewarded in Eternity ? 
He was faithful! And what he was in this, par- 
ticular must we be, or we are not Christians, or 
we are lost !” 

The outsiders were delighted with this illustra- 
tion. So were the younger church people. The 


The County Seat. 55 

same was not true of the older church people. A 
warden said: 

“We have never been accustomed to that kind of 
preaching. What would old Doctor Stone” — Doc- 
tor Stone, who had died within the year, had been 
rector of the parish for fifty years — “what would 
old Doctor Stone” — that dear and good man had 
not been interesting once in the course of the half 
century that he had ministered to this people — • 
“what would old Doctor Stone think of such 
preaching, were he here?” 

“I should think that it would make him turn in 
his grave !” replied the other warden. 

The older people began staying away. The 
younger people and the outsiders filled the church 
for a time. Then they began expressing sorrow 
for the older people. When too many empty seats 
were showing. Emory sent in his resignation. 

Soon afterwards Jim Shelby met him, and said: 

“Wha’ ’d I tell you, Em ! As me an’ Ike Ster- 
lin’ an’ the miner you hit — we took a’ early start 
and walked over to hear you that mornin’ — as we 
come away from the church after your dog-ser- 
mon, as everybody calls it, we talked the matter 
over, and they agreed with me that you wa’n’t cut 
out fur a parson. If you ever succeed in y’r trade 
you’ll haf’ t’ quit bein’ y’se’f, and be what th’ in- 


56 How Baldy Won 

f’uential people in the church want yon t’ be! 
Min’ w’at I’m a-tellin’ y’u !” 

“I snppose you’ll keep on going to church when 
I’m gone, Jim?” 

“Not by a dam — beg pardon! — I’d a-come as 
near sayin’ thet ’ad the Bishop been ’ere. No! I 
don’t care nothin’ about hearin’ men ’at a’n’t th’* 
se’ves !” 


The County Seat. 


57 


CHAPTER V. 

BEE THOMPSON. 

Emory was not aware of how great a strain he 
was enduring till he had mailed his resignation 
to the clerk of the vestry. 

This done he turned his mind to recreation, and 
bethought him of his indefinite engagement with 
Red. 

After the acceptance of the call, he had sent 
word to that free-thing-of-the-hills that he could 
not come soon. But there was no ground for fear 
that Red would be offended by the tardiness of 
the coming — or have other engagement that would 
interfere; for he never had an engagement — en- 
gagement, I mean, of duty or profitable employ- 
ment — which he would not gladly break for a day 
among the birds and squirrels. 

The only danger was that he might get away to 
his haunts before his visitor arrived. 

To obviate such a mishap, Emory, at a little 
after noon, one day, started afoot for the moun- 


58 How Baldy Won 

tains. The Thompson cabin is about half a dozen 
miles from the village. 

The three first of these are across meadows, 
wheat and corn fields and pasture lands, which 
crawl peacefully up to the forests, which roll, 
as nature planted and tends them, up and over 
the ranges. 

A great peace came over him as he approached 
their shades. With a quiet mind, he was about 
to enter them, to have his spirit soothed and his 
body cooled, when he was hailed. 

He looked about him. For some time he could 
see no one. The hail came again. Soon, in the 
bright sunshine of this afternoon of the latter 
part of May, he saw, in the grasses of the meadow, 
from which the path which he was following goes 
among the trees, a shock of coarse, black, sun- 
burnt hair, then the face under it. They belonged 
to the father of Red. 

Emory approached him. The greetings were 
warm. Emory said : 

“At your old business, T see, Mr. Thompson !” 

“Yes,” replied Air. Thompson, as he threw him- 
self to a- supine position, in a way which indicated 
that he had been occupying it; “and I wVdn’t 
V seed y’u hedn’t I been a-lookin ? f’r a way t’ git 
up thet V bank !” — nodding towards the precipi- 
tate side of a foothill. 


59 


The County Seat. 

Though he thought he knew, Emory asked: 

“Why do you want to get up there ?” 

Mr. Thompson replied: 

“Lay down aside me, hi y’r back, an* look up, 
an* me’be you’ll see !” 

After a short silence, Mr. Thompson asked: 

“Don’t y’u see nuthin’?” 

“I see what appear to be little black streaks,” 
Emory replied. 

Whether he would have seen these streaks is a 
question had he not known what to expect to see 
— which expectation came of his having more than 
once, when a boy, seen Mr. Thompson engaged in 
his business. 

“Them’s them !” said Mr. Thompson with en- 
thusiasm, as he jumped up. “Bees ’as lots o’ in- 
stinc’, or w’atever y’u book folks calls it ! No 
matter how fur th’s got ’way fr’m hum, when 
th’s loaded th’se’ves wi’ wax and honey th’ 
knows how to git - back. An’ I guess I knows 
’bout’s much ’bout w’ere theseun’s home is ’s th’ 
does now. I*s been a-watchin’ ’em all a’ternoon ! 
Notice ’at th’ flies heavy?” 

Emory was not enough of an expert in wild- 
bees to notice shades of character in their flight. 
A honey-bee at a flower always seemed to him to 
be adroitly fumbling, and when on the way any- 
where to be making for there directly and ener- 


6o 


How Baldy Won 

getically. He made no reply to Mr. Thompson's 
question, but there was something in his look 
which caused Mr. Thompson to continue, as he 
again threw his head back, and once more peered 
into the zenith: 

“Them fellers 'as plenty o' the sweetness an' 
the buildin' material 'at th' went arter — Eh? 
Hedn't ort t' call 'em fellers? Females? Ha, 
ha, ha ! S’pose I c’u'd study th' ways fur more'n 
fifty year an' not know thet ! But females 's 
diff’rent now f’om what th' use t' be. My wife 
al'ays calls husse’f a feller. Guess w'at you par- 
sons calls th’ spurrit o' the age 'as worked e'en 
intu th' mountains ! But them bees up thar', 
th's takin' w'at th's got, straight hum. And 
th' ha'n't got fur to go, nuther ! As I said afore, 
th' flies heavy. Th’ 's a bit tired 's well's well- 
loaded. An' there’s a dip in th' flight. Th' hum's 
right over thet hill, in th' holler beyant — 'r on 
the side o' th' next hill. I w’u'dn’t ast ev'ybody, 
Emory, but bow'd v’u like to come along an' see." 

Emory would like nothing better. The top of 
the hill was reached bv laying hold of roots and 
trunks and limbs, and scrambling. There they 
stopped for a moment to catch their breaths and 
mop their brows and faces. Before Emory had 
the perspiration off his eyelids, Mr. Thompson ex- 
claimed : 


6i 


The County Seat. 

“Thar’, w’a’ d’ I tell y’u !” 

True enough ! Across the ravine beneath them, 
was an old tree of gigantic proportions, with a 
hole in its side, among its ponderous limbs. They 
could — or Mr. Thompson could, and Emory fan- 
cied he could — faintly hear the buzzing, about the 
hole, of the inhabitants of the tree. To this door 
of their home, from every direction — but especial- 
ly from the open and cultivated country out of 
which the man was come who had the intention 
of despoiling that home — an “innumerable com- 
pany” of the little workers flew. 

Having in mind a protest against this desecra- 
tion, Emory said: 

“Mr. Bee — I beg your pardon !” 

Mr. Thompson laughed: 

“Never mind a little slip like thet, my boy ! I 
knows ’at I’m called ‘Bee’ Thompson! But w’y 
should thet bother me? It on’y shows my busi- 
ness ! Y’u ha’n’t offended w’en th’ calls y’u Rev- 
erend, be y’u ? Th’ doctor’d think it queer ’f th’ 
didn’t call ’im ‘Doctor.’ An’ I dunno ’f I ha’n’t 
’bout ’s much o’ a blessin’ to my feller critters ’s 
the preacher ’r th’ doctor ! My life ’s away fr’m 
people, an’ y’u preachers scolds ’em. W’at I sells 
t’ ’em ’s sweet, an’ w’at th’ doctor lets ’em ’ave ’t 
a higher figger ’s gen’ally bitter.” 


62 


How Baldy Won 

To ch'ange the subject — laughing as he did so 
— Emory said: 

“Well, you’ll get a good haul of sweetness out 
of that tree, anyway !” 

“Hope so !” was the reply in the tone of the 
prospector who has struck it rich in the gold 
fields. 

Then said Emory: 

“If I get home in time for supper, I must be 
starting in that direction !” 

“Come an’ ’ave a snack wi’ me !” said Mr. 
Thompson. 

“I accept the invitation for to-morrow!” an- 
swered Emory. “I was on my way to your house 
when you hailed me. I wanted to see Eed, or 
leave word for him ! Will you carry a message 
from me to him ?” 

Mr. Thompson nodded, yes. 

“Tell him that I shall come up in the morning, 
bright and early. I want to spend the day with 
him. Will he be at leisure?” 

With a laugh of contempt for any other view of 
life than that of the mountains, Mr. Thompson 
replied : 

“’T layzure ! Eed’s a chip offen th’ oT block ! 
Up ’ere a feller’s born free, an’ grows freer an’ 
freer th’ longer ’e lives! Layzure! Th’ idee o’ 
askin’ sich a question !” 


The County Seat. 


63 


CHAPTER VI. 


PONE. 


Emory was fond of outdoors. He had been a 
hunter and fisherman, from his earliest boyhood 
— till recently. When he had a trip to the brook, 
the river, the fields, or the woods in mind, it was 
no hardship for him to be stirring early. So 
there was no cringing in advance/upon his part, 
when, upon reaching home after his parting from 
Mr. Thompson, he told Uncle Dave to have Nellie 
saddled at an hour before daybreak the next morn- 
ing, as well as a mount for himself. This caused 
the old negroes face to fairly shine. He feared 
“dat dem books, an’ robes, an’ f’ings was a-takin’ 
all de snap outen Mars Emory !” Having served 
sportsmen all his life, he was a sportsman, and 
could still ride after the hounds and handle his 
single-barreled shot-gun and paw-paw fishing-rod 
creditably. 

When — after a night’s sleep, such as a man can 
get only u]3on returning from long exercise in 


6 4 


How Baldy Won 

the open — Emory came out, he found Uncle Dave 
holding the .horses. When he saw that his young 
master — though the Civil War was long over and 
he was a free man, he was but dimly aware of 
these things, and considered himself as belonging 
to the Embersons as much as he ever did — was in 
leggings and walking shoes, a disappointed look 
came to him. He had a really offended look when, 
at the edge of the woods, near where Mr. Thomp- 
son had been encountered the day before, Emory 
dismounted, threw INTellie’s leading-strap to him, 
and told him that he might return. When he had 
ridden abruptly off, without asking when or where 
he should come, Emory smiled after him — then 
gave his attention to his surroundings. 

Day was breaking. Daybreak has a depressing 
effect upon one of imagination and sensibility. It 
is distinctly ghostly. If it be in the spring the 
birds will soon be in chorus, but they are now 
sleepily chirping each in its individual way. The 
buzzards sit on dead limbs, hardly enough awake 
to croak, stretch their legs and raise their wings, 
which are so heavy with the damps of the night 
that they are useless. Having climbed a fence, 
Emory stood in a meadow, and shook himself to 
drive away the horrors. But there was soon a 
change. Was it to the more agreeable? There 
was still the unearthly in the situation. There 


The County Seat. 65 

seemed to be going on a gigantic and multitudi- 
nous wrestle — to the death. It was between Light 
and Darkness, between Day and Night. There 
was the general wrestle between Shadow, which 
came from the mountains, and Dawn, which came 
over the meadows. Then there w^s the particular 
wrestle between the individual shadow and the in- 
dividual light at each tree and bush, in every fence 
corner, and in each ravine. There was the large 
effect of two mighty armies falling upon each 
other, and the smaller effects of conflicts between 
corps, divisions, regiments, companies, persons, in 
close, closer, hand-to-hand battle. He who has 
never witnessed a clear spring or summer dawn, 
cannot .imagine the phase of nature of which I 
have been trying to convey an impression, form a 
notion of Emory’s emotions under its influence, 
or understand his inclination to wonder if science 
may not some day come to appreciate at least a 
residuum of truth in the holding of Goethe that 
darkness is something real, not simply the absence 
of light. The kaleidoscopic spectacle held him 
motionless. When it was come to an end — 
when Light had completely conquered — he came 
to himself with a sigh — a sigh of relief from ten- 
sion — such a sigh as comes from the onlooking 
boy when one of two men who have been straining 
and swaying in each other’s embrace throws his 


66 


How Baldy Won 

adversary and is clearly victor. The birds, also, 
seemed to have come to themselves. They were 
now in full chorus. 

It had been some years since Emory had been 
out thus — clear away from the dwellings of men 
— at a dawn and a sunrise. He lent his ears to the 
great bird choir. He picked out the notes of in- 
dividual birds — that of the robin — that of the 

song sparrows — that of There was a peculiar 

rattling song. From what bird did it come? He 
remembered the rattle distinctly, but could not 
recall the image of the rattler. He located the 
rattle. It came from a small oak, at the edge of 
the meadow, near the wood. He had a glimpse 
of a little brown bird. He pulled a field glass 
from its case. Did the motion disturb the bird? 
It darted over the farm lands. 

With the impetuosity of the hunter — one may 
cease to be a hunter of the plumage or the bodies 
of birds and still be a hunter of their notes and 
of their appearances — he was about to follow, took 
a step, when he remembered his engagement in 
the other direction. 

He must make up for the time he had lost. So, 
taking another hole in his belt, that his hatchet 
mighty carry more snugly, and patting his re- 
volver and hunting knife in their sheaths, he 
vaulted a fence, entered the woods, and took a 


6 ; 


The County Seat. 

path up a watercourse — a path which he had 
often, too often, taken when a boy. In imagina- 
tion he was again not more than twelve years old, 
and refelt the elation, the dread and the con- 
science-prickings of truancy. At the end of a 
quarter of an hour, as he still hurried on, he 
reached for his handkerchief to wipe his brow, 
thinking that he had not been taking enough ex- 
ercise, or he would not be so soft — when he was 
probably something over a third of the way from 
where he had entered the wood to the- Thompson 
clearing — something fell in the path a few yards 
ahead of him. He stepped on toward it. It was 
the body of a woodpecker. 

It was as suddenly dead as if it had bee# struck 
by a thunderbolt. Its feathers were rumpled. 
There was much more red upon them than the 
red of its head and neck, which, whatever had 
struck it, had cut as well as broken. 

After his just passed experience with the birds, 
the sight of this slaughter of one of the most strik- 
ing of them sickened him. What had struck it ? 
He had heard the report of no gun, the twang of 
no bow string. Still, he thought he knew what 
had been the instrument of its death. 

A furtive figure moved among the trees. He 
cried out: 

“Hello, Red !” 


68 


How Baldy Won 

Yes, Eed it was ! 

He came forward, seeming only to touch ob- 
jects, such as fallen trees, as he crossed them — 
came forward as lightly as a cat, into the path 
beyond the fallen bird. When he reached it he 
touched it with the toe of his shoe, and smiled 
as the body turned over and the head remained 
as it lay. 

Emory said: 

“I see you still throw !” 

“Yes,” was the answer. “I seed y’u cornin’ up 
th’ path. Th’ ’pecker seed y’u, too. He must 
V thought ’at when y’u was a-reaehing in y’r 
pocket ’twas fur some deadly weepon. Thet wa’ 
ih’ en’^o’ ’im!” 

“Poor little devil !” said Emory. 

“W’at’s th’ matter o^ y’u, Em? Y’u didn’t 
use t’ be no kind o’ milksop !” 

“Why did you kill him, Red?” 

“Got t’ kill things t’ live !” 

“But you don’t eat woodpeckers !” 

“ ’Ceptin’ w’en we’re hard put ! But I make It a 
p’int to do a killin’ ’fore breakfas’ ev’ry mornin’ — 
t’ keep m’ ban’ in ! George ! see thet squ’rl !” as 
he snatched a stone from his pocket and threw. 

The squirrel dropped from the limb along 
which it had been running. But it was only 
stunned. It succeeded in catching hold of a 


6g 


The County Seat. 

lower limb. Flattening itself to this, and hurry- 
ing along the further side of it, so as to not offer 
itself as a mark, it reached the trunk of the tree, 
up which it scrambled and attained its hole. 

“I’ve got y’u all tiff same P said Red, through 
his clenched teeth; then to Emory: “I know thet 
hoff ! ’Ta’n’t deep. Wait a min iff P 

He was off and up the tree, with the lightness 
and ferocity of a catamount. 

He had soon reached the ground with the fierce- 
ly struggling little creature in his hand — held so 
that it could not bite him — with an art which 
came of long years of practice. 

“Why don’t you kill it P almost commanded 
Emory. 

“Why P replied Red, with a cruel, feline look 
in his face, “tiff squTTs a plucky little varmint ! 
Fights ; s long ’$ ’t can ! Dies beautiful P 

This moralizing took his attention away from 
his victim sufficiently to give it a chance to nip 
him. 

Greatly angered, he struck the little wretch at 
the back of the head so viciously that, fortunately, 
it was killed instantly. 

Emory laughed. — not at the killing, but at the 
biting. 

Red reddened — if such a thing was possible, 


/o 


How Baldy Won 

and frowned. Then he thought better of it, 
laughed, too, and said: 

“Nothin* kin b’ blamed fur fightin* the best *t 
knows fur *ts life !” 

This pleased Emory, and he said : 

“You’ve seen a bottom truth, Red, and there’s 
hope for you !” 

Red looked puzzled. 

Pocketing the squirrel and leaving the wood- 
pecker where it had fallen, he led the way, at a 
rapid pace, to the ragged little clearing, in the 
middle of which stood the mud-chinked, clap- 
board-roofed, double log cabin, in which the 
Thompsons were always “at home” — or would be 
sooner or later — to any person, or any number of 
persons who might see fit to drop in. Their door 
had never been locked since it was hung on its 
wooden hinges. There was no provision for its 
locking. Its only fastening was a wooden latch — 
lifted by a string of leather, which was always 
“hanging out.” Whoever saw fit to lay hold of 
this string was perfectly welcome to walk in. 
Were any one at home he was served with the 
best the cabin afforded. Were no one at home, he 
was at liberty to help himself to the best he could 
find. The Thompson family was not a cultured one 
— many would have thought it scarcely civilized. 
May be that was the reason it was “given to hos- 


The County Seat 71 

pitality.” Were it possible for St. Paul to walk 
into this clearing and pull the latchstring which 
to this day sways in every breeze and flaps in 
every gale, he would find, or, in waiting, see 
come in, simple folk after his liking. 

Mrs. Thompson — a large, freckled woman, the 
picture of matronly health — welcomed Emory, 
heartily gripped his hand, shook his arm, and 
slapped him on the hack, saying: 

“Lord-o’-massy ! how y’u’ve growed ! Howde 
like bein’ a preacher? ’Spected suthin’ better o’ 
y’u! Bee an’ Red keeps posted. W’at ’ey knows 
1 knows. Y’u’d better be a straight up an’ down 
preacher an’ a crooked an’ cringin’ suthin’ e’se, 
though ! Guess y’u’ll do ! Us ladies needs some- 
un’ t’ look out fur ’s — ha ! ha ! ha ! But how d’y’u 
come t’ be so late? Bet ’tis Red’s fault. Never 
know w’en ’e’s cornin’ back. But I won’t scold ! 
But w’en a feller’s ’ad breakfas’ ready fur ’alf a ? 
’our an’ ’tis growin’ col’ sh’ a’n’t in the best 0 ’ 
’umors nat’ally.” 

The breakfast to which Emory sat down with 
Mrs. Thompson and Red had as foundation, pone 
— a cornbread peculiar to the South. Emory had' 
seen its dough prepared by the blacks and the 
poor whites through all the years — excepting, of 
course, those which he had spent at the North. 
The process of its making is simple. Into water is 


72 


How Baldy Won 

stirred cornmeal, with a little salt, till a thick 
paste is produced. The baking is as simple. The 
dough is poured into a deep iron pan. When its 
heavy iron lid is placed, the pan is buried in hot 
wood ashes, where it is allowed to remain — how 
long only an expert as to the heat of the ashes 
and the readiness with which such dough yields 
to its influence could know. The result is served 
hot. To the one who has never scented or tasted 
pone its fragrance, its sweetness and other palata- 
bilities would be revelations. Nothing at the 
North so reminds the Southerner of this staple 
and delicacy of his youth as that universal deli- 
cacy and staple of the North — pound cake. But 
there is a difference. The sweetness of the pound 
cake is put in, while the sweetness of the pone is 
developed. 

I must not be understood as advising the cook 
of the North to attempt the production of a pone. 
He has not the corn of the South, the wood ashes, 
the iron pan, or the ability which the cook of the 
South does not acquire so much as inherit, or 
breathe with the air to which — not he, but she — 
is born. 

Built upon the pone in the construction of the 
breakfast in mind there were crisp bacon — to the 
frying ox which one must be born, and born at 
the South, as much as to the producing of pone — 


73 


The County Seat. 

small game, and vegetables, fresh and crisp from 
the garden, to say nothing of the coffee, made 
from parched wheat, and caused to be almost as 
good as the real stuff by burnt molasses and rich 
cream. 

Emory never enjoyed a breakfast more thor- 
oughly. In its course he complimented everything. 
When he made some particularly fulsome remark 
about the pone, Mrs. Thompson shook her knife 
at him, and said : 

“Y’u al’ays was a blarney, Em Emberson, an’ a 
reg’lar woman-killer ! But thur never was a Em- 
berson 'at wusn’t thet ! Air thur’ never wus one 
o’ ’em who wouldn’t stan’ by any one ’oo wore a 
petticoat — nur ’oo wouldn’t ruther do hit in draw- 
in’ blood ’an in any other way — ’ceptin’ y’r 
father, meybe; an’ ’e ’us made outen a durn sight 
better preacher-stuff ’an ’is son, I’s thinkin’ ! An’ 
th’ men folks o’ y’r mother’s fambly was jus’ as 
bad — ’f not a leetle wus. Thar’us ’er father. 
’E'us a reg’lar hair-trigger. ’E’d shoot th’ day- 
lights outen a feller who looked cross-eyed at a 
female. But ” 

The wink which followed this conjunction was 
fuller of meaning than any set of words could 
have been. 

Emory laughed, said something commendatory 


74 


How Baldy Won 

of the* brittle and juicy radish into which he had 
bitten, and added: 

“There must be some member of this family 
who is a good gardener!'" 

“An" hit hadn't Red "r Bee !’" replied Mrs. 
Thompson, with an expression between a smile 
and a frown. “Ketch either o" ’em work in’ in th" 
garden ! Red’s ahays out a-throwin’ stunes and 
Bee a-huntin’ honey !"" 

“By the way, where is Mr. Thompson?” asked 
Emory. 

“Lord on'y knows!” answered Mrs. Thompson. 
“When I got outen bed this mornin’ I seed ’im 
a-layin" on th" bench down by th ? spring house, "is- 
gun a-leanin’ ag'in’ the wall aside "im. All a sud- 
dent he springs up an" makes a bee-line inter th" 
woods. He’d seed w"at "e"s allers a-lookin" f’r, I 
"spec". "E's th" durn’des" in sec’ hunter the Lord 
ever made !’" 

There was a strong, springy step on the hard 
path without. Mr. Thompson, hatless, his long, 
bushy hair over his k^en black eyes, stepped in. 
He gave the guest a loud welcome, a crushing 
grip of the hand, kicked a short home-made bench 
to the end of the table opposite his wife, sat down, 
and fell to with an appetite, with the keenness of 
which Emory could fully sympathize — such an 
appetite as the well man is sure to have after an 
ante-breakfast tramp in the mountains. 


The County Seat. 


75 


CHAPTER VII. 

THE POT. 

J 

Half an hour later the three men were taking 
their pipes under a tree at the edge of the clear- 
ing. They were talking about shooting. Saying, 
“You see, Mr. Thompson, I remember the bore of 
your gun V 9 Emory took from his pocket a hand- 
ful of bullets — which he had had Uncle Dave mold 
the evening before — and handed them to his host. 
Mr. Thompson’s eyes sparkled. They fairly 
danced when his guest took from another pocket a 
brand-new powder horn, adding, as he handed it 
after the bullets, “You’ll also see that. I have not 
forgotten your choice of grain in powder !” 

Mr. Thompson sprang to his feet, hurried to 
the cabin, and returned with his squirrel rifle. 
His feats with that almost constant companion 
of his were wonderful. There were swifts circling 
in the air. He brought one of these down — before 
Emory had a chance to say a word in its interest. 
It fell so far away that no one thought of going 


76 


How Baldy Won 

after it. As it fell the gun was reloaded. The 
gunner’s quick eye caught a glimpse of a gray 
squirrel. The stock was to his shoulder, and there 
was a discharge. He had not touched the squirrel, 
but had not missed it. He had barked it. When 
Red brought it to him he said: 

“Take ’t t’ y’r mother.” 

“She’s more meat now ’an sh’ k’n use !” 

“Throw ’t ’way then !” 

“It not being needed, wouldn’t it have been as 
well to let it live?” asked Emory. 

Mr. Thompson looked at him as if he did not 
understand the question. 

At this point the attention of all three was 
taken by a crackling in the woods near at hand. 
It proved to have been made by Ike Sterling and 
Jim Shelby, who were out for a day’s hunting. 
The greetings between them and Bee were rough, 
genuine, ungrammatical, so far as two-thirds of 
them were concerned. The saving grace of the 
one-third, from Sterling, was that it was gram- 
matical. It was as rough as the other thirds. In 
a moment Emory was mingling in the persiflage. 
There was a certain restraint in what they said 
to him — that restraint which always comes on 
rough men when they are speaking to a clergy- 
man, which shows the need in human intercourse 
of the symbolization, by a class of men set apart 


77 


The County Seat. 

for that purpose, of what is the opposite of rough. 

There were now within the clearing five men, 
each of whom was accustomed to the use of at 
least some one instrument of destruction, and 
acquainted with the woods and the ways of the 
wild things which inhabit them. Their badinage 
faded off into talk about hunting. Excepting 
Emory and Red, whose hands were empty, each 
of them lauded the particular instrument of de- 
struction which he had in hand — Ike, his double- 
barreled breach-loader; Jim, his choke-bored muz- 
zle-loader; Bee, his long, small-bored, patch-and- 
ball rifle. At last Ike said: 

“Psha ! here ! I’m growing tired of this gabble ! 
Let’s put up or shut up !” 

“You’ll be th’ fust man to sliet up !” replied 
Shelby, with a laugh which was not without a 
ring of defiance. 

Reaching in his pocket, Ike asked: 

“Who’ll hold the pot? Will you, Em?” and, 
before Emory could reply, added: “I needn’t say 
to you that in the hills every man’s a law unto 
himself !” 

This was intended to convey that Emory w T as 
hesitating. But such was not the case. Knowing 
that there was no possibility that he could dissuade 
these men from betting, having been reared in an 
atmosphere of there being nothing wrong in 


78 How Baldy Won 

betting so long as each bettor conld afford his 
stake, and the suggestion coming to his mind that 
he might have more influence later through not 
pretending to be better than he was, rather yield- 
ing to his inclination — against which he had 
many a hard fight in later years — to appear worse 
than he was, Emory replied : 

“Yes ; and I'll see you V’ 

This betting slang caused a snickering laugh, 
because a clergyman took part in it. 

Ike would not have been a Southern man had 
he been able to resist such a challenge — especially 
as he had provoked it. He would have felt him- 
self disgraced by not meeting it from anyone. He 
wojuld have been laughed out of the clearing, if 
not out of the community, had he weakened be- 
fore it from a clergyman. He promptly placed a 
dollar bill in Emory’s hand. Emory covered it 
with a bill of like denomination. Bee had re- 
ceived an advance on the honey from the tree 
which he had discovered the day before, and was 
able to add his dollar. Shelby came in with his. 
At this juncture Mrs. Thompson joined the party* 
She was quick to scent what was in the wind. She 
hurried back to the cabin. When she returned, at 
a gait as quick and strong as that of a man, she 
handed something to Red. He was in, too. * 

It was arranged that the five were to separate. 


79 


The County Seat. 

spend the intervening time as each saw tit, and be 
back at' the point of parting at six o’clock in the 
evening, each bringing the scalps of what he had 
been able to kill. 

As Emory had his revolver, the only one with- 
out a firearm was Red. But he was not long un- 
armed. Having entered the cabin, he returned at 
once with a leathern pouch, the strap of which he 
passed over his head to his left shoulder, from 
which it swung to his right hip. Emory heard the 
grinding of small stones or large pebbles against 
each other, and he knew that they had been col- 
lected with great care from the beds of moun- 
tain streams and were of various sizes for throw- 
ing at game of various sizes at various distances. 
They were the last to leave the clearing. As they 
allowed a great stump to send them in diverging 
ways, Emory said : 

“Our day is spoiled, Bed, but we’ll have an- 
other !” 

“’T won’t be sp’iled s’ awful bad ’f I get th’ 
pot !’’ replied Red, fondling the leathern pouch 
which rested well back. 

One of the conditions was that he who should 
not be back at the time specified would be out of the 
contest, have no chance at the pot, of course, and 
be forever parted from the dollar which he had 
put in it. 


8o 


How Baldy Won 

All but Emory and Bee were back a little before 
that time. Emory was back at six almost to the sec- 
ond — not because he had any personal interest in 
the pot ; he had not bagged a thing which was visi- 
ble — but because his faculty of time was large, and 
he found it hard to be late, even when he tried. It 
was ten minutes after six when Bee arrived, his 
face aflame and his eyes dancing as if he had made 
a great success. But there was no more evidence 
that he had bagged anything than there was that 
Emory had done so. As to the others, Jim and Ike 
were about a tie, but Red had so many scalps that 
he was clearly ahead of not only either of them, 
but of both of them together — so clearly so that 
there was no need of either counting or waiting 
for the consent of anyone. So Emory turned the 
pot over to him. Then began the badgering. Said 
Jim to Ike: “The game on the hills must V 
hearn tell o’ how abominable some o’ th’r ancestors 
was served on the table o’ y’r eatin’ house, an* 
concluded th’ wouldn’t stan’ still !” Ike retorted : 
“About the only thing you can hit is a nail, and you 
have to have a hammer to do that !” But the un- 
successful did not do quite all the badgering. Red 
was so elated by his victory that he actually spoke, 
saying : 

“Th’ on’y thin’ dad kin hunt’s a bee !” 

“Thar y’r ’bout right !” said Mr. Thompson. 


The County Seat* 81 

The fact ia that he entered the contest with no 
thought of not winning if he could. But he had 
happened to approach the wocds by way of the 
spring house. That brought to his mind the bees 
which he had seen that morning starting toward 
their harvest field. He looked up and saw two or 
three of these workers returning. Though there is 
a hint as to the location of their residence in the 
diverging of going bees, its professional hunter 
wants that hint verified by the converging of 
their returning. The complete verification re- 
quires long and patient waiting and watching. 
Then come the walking and the climbing and the 
sliding necessary to the, so to speak, putting 
the finger on it. The vicinity of the spring- 
house was not a good place for the watching of the 
making for home of these particular bees. The 
summit of a knoll to the westward would be a 
much better place for that purpose. For there 
Mr. Thompson made at once. There he Lay for 
hours watching the coming and going of the little 
busybodies, trying to make up his mind as to 
whether they were all from the same tree and, 
that point settled affirmatively, as to where the tree 
might be. Then came the definite hunt, which 
began about noon. When the tree was located 
Mr. Thompson thought, for the first time since 
leaving his home clearing, of the competition on 


82 


How Baldy Won 

which he had started. He had no watch. But the 
day was clear and he had but to glance at the shad- 
ows to know nearly enough what the hour was. He 
saw that if he reached home by the time his guests 
were returning he would have, as he said to him- 
self, to “be a-humpin’ ’t.” And he humped it, with 
the result, as to the time of his reaching the 
clearing, that the reader knows. In reply to his 
son’s remark Mr. Thompson said: “Me an’ Emory 
seems t’ be ’n th’ same boat ! I looks sky’ards for 
bees; ’e look in th’ same direction for su’thin’ 
else — angels ! But th’ result’s th’ same, Th’ fel- 
ler ’at don’ keep ’is eyes on th’ earth’s putty sure 
to lose th’ pot !” 

That there was a general laugh at this remark I 
need not say. The laity always enjoys a poke at 
the clergy. And I hope that at even this stage 
of our history the reader is sufficiently acquainted 
with our hero to know that he had enough natural 
grace to laugh at a joke at his own expense. 

“Biit I have bagged more game than you think — 
real game !” 

This assurance from Emory was followed by a 
laugh from him, which was more hearty than the 
one which he had laughed in response to Mr. 
Thompson’s remark at the expense of the sacred 
calling for which he had a high regard, for which 
he doubted if he were naturally fitted, for which 


83 


The County Seat. 

he was quite sure he was not sufficiently pious — a 
laugh which was caused by the blank look which 
the assurance brought to the faces about. He went 
on: “I knew better than to present the game 
which I took for counting in competition for the 
pot. While you fellows, excepting Mr. Thompson, 
were killing things — and I have no doubt that my 
fellow-sky gazer would have killed more than any 
one of you excepting that prince of killers (his son, 
Bed), had he not seen a chance to rob some of his 
fellow-creatures — while you fellows were killing 
tilings, I spent most of the time under the wide, 
low, down-bending limbs of a beech . 55 

“Ahem !” from Jim. 

At this Emory smiled and proceeded: “At my 
feet gurgled a little spring 55 

“Poetry , 55 put in Ike. 

Emory continued: “I remained very quiet. I 
saw a thrush more closely than one often sees 
those shy birds. A squirrel actually hopped over 
my legs. A bee — whether it was one of those, the 
result of whose industry Mr. Thompson was after 
I do not know — rested for a moment on the lapel 
of my coat. A cardinal whistled within three feet 

of me. A colony of ants 55 

. “Made nests in your ears ? 55 asked Ike, laugh- 
ingly. 

“Keep still, Ike , 55 blurted Jim. “Blast m 5 but* 


84 How Baldy Won 

tons, *f I don* think ’at Em made better use *f ’is 
day ’an arry one *f us! Em, I’ve bin thinkin’ a 
lot ’bout ’r feller critters, who can’t swear, n’r shoot 
guns, n’r do a lot o’ other things ’at we kin, since 
I heard that dog-sermon o’ yourn !” 

Thinking that, under the circumstances, more 
harm than good might come of discussing the 
principles of what afterward came to be known as 
Biophilism — having awakened the minds of these 
rough men with regard to those principles — Emory 
changed the subject by saying: 

“There’d be enough light yet for a little target 
practice.’* 

The suggestion was favorably received. It was 
arranged that each of the five present should have 
three shots with each of the guns at hand. Then 
these men would never do anything in the way of 
'Competition as to ability for nothing. There 
would be neither fun nor stimulation in that. On 
Emory’s suggestion — he having made the sugges- 
tion as to shooting, his right to make the first sug- 
gestion in the consequent particular was tacitly 
conceded — it was arranged that the one doing the 
poorest shooting at a mark sixty yards away with 
Mr. Thompson’s gnn should carry Mrs. Thompson 
a bucket of water for supper. On Ike’s suggestion 
it was agreed that the one doing the poorest 
shooting with Jim’s gun should pare the potatoes 


( 

The County Seat. 85 

for her. On Jim’s suggestion it was understood 
that the one doing the poorest shooting with Ike’s 
gun should not — save by unanimous consent — - 
have more than a smell at the corncob stopper of 
the jug in which was kept the “pinetop.” as the 
universal appetizer of the mountains of that part 
of the South was called in those days. 

The shooting with these arms concluded, Emory 
drew his revolver. With this weapon every one 
present was familiar in a general way. But this 
one had all the improvements known at that date. 
It was self-cocking, something of which all had 
heard, but which no one knew save its owner. 
When Red, whose tongue had not yet reacted from 
the loosening effect of his success, suggested a try 
with it, Emory demurred, on the ground that he 
was the only one of the company who had used 
the new-fangled shootin’-iron, as Jim had called 
it. 

“He’s afeard,” said that same irrepressible Jim, 
“thet Vll be so shuck up by bein’ beat ’at ’e can’t 
carry thet bucket o’ water f’r Mrs. Thompson !” 

Emorv had been — allowed himself to be — de- 
feated by all in the shooting with Mr. Thompson’s 
squirrel rifle. He had intended that there should 
be the same result in the shooting with the other 
guns. But human nature is human nature, and 
the remarks of neither Jim or Ike were regardful 


86 


How Baldy Won * 

of his feelings. So when he took the gun of each 
of them he was of a different mind. And win he 
did in each case by a hair’s breadth. Indeed, he 
tied and had to shoot it over with Ike. But they 
were defeated. And they ^vere chagrined. This 
each showed in his individual way. Ike began 
making excuses. When they were laughed at he 
showed a disposition to anger. But when he saw 
a cool smile on Emory’s, lips, which began to 
harden, he got control of himself and laughed, 
though the laugh was somewhat forced. Jim 
said: 

"Well, Em, I’ll he plagued ’f y’u don’ beat all 
tarnation ! W’ere’d y’u larn t’ shoot ?” 

"Mr. Thompson here taught me what to do with 
a gun when I wanted to hit anything !” 

Jim grinned, noticing the pleased look on Mr. 
Thompson’s face, and remembering that Mr. 
Thompson’s was the only gun with which Emory 
had not driven the centre or grazed it, said: 

"But thet was a good many years ago. ’Ow’ve 
y’u kep’ in practice sence y’u’ve bin ’way fr’m 
home?” Emory replied something about a shoot- 
ing-gallery which he had frequented for some 
years, of a gunning club to which he belonged, of 
target practice, of clay-pigeon shooting. The fact 
is that during his college and university clays he 
had taken only less interest in shooting than he 


87 


The County Seat. 

had in boxing. Though each of the five could 
shoot well with an old-fashioned army revolver, 
every one of them was at sea with the self-cocker, 
save Emory. Of him it seemed to be a part. One 
would have said that when he looked at anything, 
stationary or moving, with the thought of hitting 
it, it was hit. This impression was so strong 
upon Jim — a man of imagination — that when, 
with the delight in his eyes of the consciousness 
of doing well a thing difficult to do, Emory 
glanced toward him, he started, saying, with a 
half serious smile: “For the love of cheese, don’ 
look this way !” 

Take an illustration of Emory’s power with the 
revolver. On a high spray of a tree at the edge 
of the clearing opposite the one at which the men 
were grouped, bobbed back and forth, up and 
down, a mottle-breasted thrush, bringing its head 
and tail almost together, now over, now under its 
body, with that catarrhal sound at which one al- 
ways wonders, it coming from one who, on occa- 
sion, is so divine a singer. Pointing to the bird, 
who was enjoying his swing as he scolded those 
whose racket had been disturbing the peace of his 
abode, Red, whose tongue was still loose, asked : 

“Can y’u bring ’im down, Em ?” 

“I might, but I won’t !” was the answer “I 
think I can disturb his perch, though !” 


88 


How Baldy Won 

A movement of Emory’s hand and a flash. The 
hird dropped a few feet, opened its wings, caught 
itself and darted away into the woods. The spray 
on which it had perched came to the ground as if 
it had been nipped with a pair of pruning shears. 
Jim said: 

“Em, the hedge ’t the front o’ my yard neeus 
trim min’. W’a’ll y’u charge t’ bring it inter shape 
wi’ y’r gun ?” 

“Maybe he’ll shoot the skins off the potatoes for 
supper!” said Ike 

“You might git ’im t’ shoot th’ smell offen th’ 
cork, so’s t’ not ’ave a edge put on y’r thirst !” was 
the rejoinder. 

The laugh which followed was not over when 
Emory said : 

“Everybody’s had a chance at his specialty but 
Red. There’s been no throwing yet !” 

Glancing at the three piles of scalps lying on 
the ground, Jim remarked: 

“Seems t’ me thet th’re’s bin t’ much !” 

But Emory picked up a stone and hurled it with 
such perfection of aim at the handle of an axe 
which stuck in a log in a wood pile at the corner 
of the cabin, some forty yards away, that the 
handle panged, the axe came to the ground, and 
Red’s spirit of rivalry was up. The other members 
of the party threw a few times, then were wit- 


89 


The County Seat. 

nesses. Red killed a sapsueker who was dodging 
about on a sapling as far off as the wood pile, 
showing that if Emory had awakened in him any 
thoughts or sentiments of consideration for the 
lives of his fellow-beings who cannot talk and so 
present their rights to a place on earth, they were 
not very wide awake. Emory made nearly as good 
a throw by nipping a twig at the end of which 
fluttered a leaf from the body of the same sapling. 
Then Red took his hatchet from his belt and sent 
it singing through the air over the sapling. Its 
edge sank into a knot of an old oak. Emory's 
hatchet was in hand immediately, was thrown and 
sang as its predecessor had sung, and the handle 
of Red’s was split. Then came hunting knives. 
Emory’s darted from his hand. It stuck straight 
out from a spot on a poplar near the oak. Then 
Red’s, as he said, “Handle fur handle !” and his 
threat was fulfilled. 

As the applause for this wonderful feat was 
ending, Emory, who had started it, picked up a 
stone, looked over his shoulder, drew back his 
hand, as if he were going to throw at something 
in front of him, and when it reached the position 
for such a throw let the stone go to his rear. It 
disappeared in a hole in an old elm, distant, say 
thirty yards — a good-sized hole left at the falling 
of a hollow limb. Red took a stone, went through 


90 


How Baldy Won 

the same motions, and it disappeared in the same 
place. Emory reperformed the feat. Red fol- 
lowed suit. Emory sent another stone to the 
same vanishing. So did Red. Emory was about 
to do so again when Jim said: 

“Thur ! thur ! W’at spite ’ve y’u fellers got ’t 
th’ woodpeckers ’et y’u wan ter till up w’ere a pair 
o’ ’em may wan* ter move t’ ?” 

At this point Mrs. Thompson appeared at the 
door. Supper was ready. 

“And I haven’t brought the bucket of water/* 
said Emory. 

“And I ha’n’t peeled the pertaters!” said Jim. 

They started together for the cabin at a run. 

The others followed. 

The jug was produced. 

“And I’m the only one that has to suffer!’* 
mourned Ike. 

“I move/’ said Emory. 

“I second/’ said Jim. 

“All ’n favor/’ said Mr. Thompson. 

The affirmative vote was unanimous. 

As Ike took the jug from his lips Jim said : “I’ll 
bet a day’s work ’et Ike can’t hoi’ ’is breath ’s long 
in smell in’ as ’e’s hel’ it ’n drinkin’ !” 

There was no taker. 


The County Seat. 


9 1 


CHAPTER VIII. 

LOOKING INTO THE MUZZLES OF TWO REVOLVERS, 

On the way home, in a meadow, Jim Shelby 
stopped suddenly and said : 

“Em, there’s suthin’ I wan’ t’ know. Y’r shoot- 
in’ with th’ guns was wonde’ful, the way y’u hit 
things wi’ y’r revolver w’s astonishin’, but y’ur 
throwin’ w’s mirac’lous ! We’re d’ y’u learn?” 

“When we were boys Red and I spent days and 
days together in the mountains and did little 
from morning to night but throw.” 

“So, th’ young Thompson ’ad t’ do ’ith startin’ 
y’u t’ throwin’ as th’ old ’un ’ad to ’ith startin’ 
y'u t’ shootin’ ! Y’u needn’ tol’ me thet. But y’u 
more'n started. Y'u went on to mighty nigh per- 
fection ’n both lines. Y’u throwed some light on 
how y’u come t’ be s’ good a shooter. ’T remains 
f’r y'u t’ reveal liow y’u become so good a 
thrower !” 

“Well, there is no set of men who find life so 


92 


How Baldy Won 

much of a bore as the clubmen of the cities. Some 
time after I had become a member of the shooting 
club of which I have spoken, I gave an exhibition 
of how I could throw a stone, a knife and a 
hatchet. The witnesses reported. Others wanted 
to be witnesses. I soon had more pupils than I 
wanted. The new thing had taken as a new thing 
is apt to take with such men. We threw, not only 
in the gallery, but outdoors — at targets, at clay 
pigeons and in the woods. So in the years that 
I’ve been from home I have had about as much 
practice in throwing as Red has had in the moun- 
tains. Had this not been so he would have had 
easier work in beating me this evening.” 

The village reached, Emory and Jim were in- 
vited into the Sterling House for “a nip and a 
nibble/’ as Ike put it. Emory excused himself 
on the ground that he had a trip before him the 
next day w^hich would take him from home very 
early in the morning. The fact was, he did not 
care to hear or take part in the talking over the 
events of the day in the presence of loafers, to 
which he knew Jim and Ike would proceed. 

But his excuse was not trumped up. The next 
morning he rode away bright and early, sitting 
ISTellie in a way which showed that he was out for 
something more than simply a ride. He was off 
for a call upon the Bishop. 


The County Seat. 93 

That venerable successor of the Apostles beamed 
on him, saying: 

“Everybody has to learn through experience, 
my son !” 

Though he thought he knew, Emory asked : 

“What do you mean, Bishop?” 

“That young men who receive the call and heed 
it have to learn how to preach, what to preach 
and how to conduct a parish, just as other young 
men have to learn how to do anything else — to 
conduct a suit in court, to shoe a horse, or run a 
grocery store.” 

“My dear Bishop,” said Emory, “though prob- 
ably as bumptious as the average young man, I 
am not bumptious enough to think that I am very 
wise or able in any one of the particulars which 
you have mentioned, though I am not aware that 
any fault has been found with the way in which I 
have conducted the church from the rectorate of 
which I have just resigned, or with the manner in 
which I have preached while occupying its chancel. 
What has been objected to, if I am not mistaken, 
is the matter of my preaching. And with that, 
it seems to me, nobody had the right to find fault. 
It is settled by the Church. Nobody has accused 
me of heresy, I hope?” 

“No.” 

“I thought so ! My journalistic experience has 


94 How Baldy Won 

done me one good. As I recognize the right of 
the paper to adopt its policy — to say with what 
notion in mind an employe shall write — so I 
recognize the right of the Church to her creeds. 
Did I feel it my duty to combat any article of 
either of those creeds I would step out of the 
ministry of the Church. And were a local church 
of which I had become rector too high or too 
low or too broad for me, I would leave. But my 
preaching in the church which I have been serv- 
ing has been entirely practical. I have made an 
honest and earnest effort to discover the principles 
taught and lived by the Founder. To that end 
I have made a careful, and, as nearly as possible, 
independent study of the New Testament — espe- 
cially of the Gospel ‘according to’ each of the four 
Evangelists. I have found that the life of Christ 
was one of pure and simple self-sacrifice, and that 
all of His infinite intelligence went out in the di- 
rection of having others live such a life. I have 
found that He was never dogmatic, unless the new 
commandment, ‘that ye love one another/ which 
He gave through the Apostles for the government 
of those who should come into His kingdom, 
may be so considered. In my preaching I have 
left all matters of dogma, all matters of general, 
local or individual belief, alone as completely as I 
could. I have tried to have it seem that to he a 


95 


The County Seat. 

Christian one must have within him a principle — 
that through the activity of this prjtic.pie be 
must love.” 

“Yes” asked the Bishop, mildly, “but have you 
ever — excepting so far as the holdings of the three 
great parties in the Church (the high, the low and 
the broad), are concerned — have you ever stopped 
to ask : ‘ What do the people want me to preach ?’ ” 

Looking at him through eves wide from aston- 
ishment, Emory replied: “No! To ask such a 
question never entered my head ! I presumed 
that they wanted me to preach the Gospel ! Were 
I a physician of the body I would never dream 
of asking the patient what medicine he would 
like to have me minister. I would minister the 
remedy which I thought his case demanded. And 
1 have felt the same duty incumbent upon me 
as a physician of the soul !” 

The Bishop laughed: “Emory, Emory; Em 
afraid you’ll never be a Bishop l” 

Emory laughed back: “I know a blacksmith 
who is of the same opinion !” 

“And his name is Shelby ?” 

Emory nodded. 

The Bishop threw back his head and laughed 
more heartily than Emory had ever seen him. 
That Jim Shelby was a character the reader 


g6 How Baldy Won 

knows. The Bishop had evidently had some en- 
counter with him. The Bishop said : 

“He called upon me the other day, and, with 
a w r orld of commendation of you, reported what 
he called your dog-sermon. He is an original. 
He has a large mind. His language was pic- 
turesque. He But be sure that what he 

said did not lower you in my estimation !” Then, 
seriously: “You were saying ?” 

Emory replied : “What I might have been 
going to say is of less importance than that 
when a Bishop and a man so thoroughly not a 
Bishop as Jim Shelby agree upon a certain point 
with relation to a third person, they cannot be 
far from right. But I have never thought of 
wanting to be a Bishop. And it seems to me 
that you once intimated to me that one may pay 
too great a price for entrance into the Episcopacy .” 

“You are right, Emory, you are right \” said the 
old man, with bowed head, and the rest respective 
in tone and look. “But,” raising his head and 
looking fully at the young man, affectionately, 
“I, having been intimate with your father, hav- 
ing known you from your infancy, having ac- 
quaintance with your mother, respecting your 
family, having priested you, I, for these reasons 
among many, not the least A which is that, in 
this day of indifference, th\ H.iurch needs mili- 


97 


The bounty Seat. 

tant blood, I would like to have you in the 
Church and ahead in the Church. Put the ques- 
tion which I have asked you in another way: You 
.have imagined yourself a physician of the body. 
Were you such a physician, would you not diag- 
nose the case before you determined what medi- 
cine to give? Would you not take into the ac- 
count all the conditions complicating the case — 
such as environment, condition of the stomach, 
state of the nerves, constitution, heredity? You 
would not pour down the patient's throat a cup- 
ful of medicine when you saw that he could 
not stand more than a teaspoonful — would you? 
You would give the remedy in the form least of- 
fensive to the patient, and best adapted to the 
power of assimilation. But what the people need 
from the pulpit is nutriment rather than medi- 
cine, and the rule of St. Paul is not entirely bad: 
‘Meat for the adults, milk for the babes V Ah, 
Emory, there are many sides to this question V* 
“I see !” said Emory, meditatively. “It is a 
mean and selfish thing for a man to withhold 
any part of the truth, or to adulterate it to his 
own advantage, and it is a wicked thing for him 
to not go to the trouble to know how much of it 
his hearers can stand and in what form it wilt 
be the most acceptable to them, as well as most 


o8 How Baldy Won 

beneficial ! I thank you, Bishop !” and proceeded 
to take his departure: 

He was crestfallen. He had, Half -unconscious- 
ly, been regarding himself a martyr to the truth. 
Now he was not sure that he had not made a 
fool of himself. He mounted and started home- 
ward at a gallop. But he had not ridden far be- 
fore another phase of the matter came to his 
mind. 

By what right were old churchmen still chil- 
dren? Some blame might attach to the clergy. 
But were the people themselves blameless? Those 
to whom he had been ministering were capable of 
thinking: for, at least, the principal ones of them 
were successful — one in trade, another at the law, 
another as an editor, another as a farmer. Each 
of them had thought, and come to conclusions, 
in the line of his temporal activities. Why had he 
not thought and come to conclusions as to, What 
is Christianity? Should the prejudices of any 
man be respected when he had abundant oppor- 
tunity to know the facts in the case? No one 
would say so with regard to his commercial, 
scientific, philosophical, or professional prejudices. 
Why should anyone say so with regard to his re- 
ligious prejudices? 

And had the people of whom he was thinking 


The County Seat. 99 

had opportunity to know the facts of Christian- 
ity ? 

He had always known the man who had pre- 
ceded him as their rector. Ife was a good man, 
negatively and conventionally. But during the 
fifty years of his honestly trying to minister to 
them in heavenly things he had not given them 
a glimpse of positive Christianity, for the simple 
reason that he was incapable of catching a glimpse 
of it himself. 

But each of them had a Bible ! 

Keeping Kellie to the walk to which he had 
brought her in the course of this train of thought, 
her rider yielded to another, which I am less in- 
clined to record, because it was more personal. 
Had they treated him right? They had not taken 
into the account that he was young and inex- 
perienced, that he wanted to be near his mother 
in her declining years, that he had his way to 
make in the world, hie thought bitterly of how, 
instead of being willing to put a cup of cold water 
to his lips, they had knocked it away when he was 
about* to drink. Bitter resentment was in his 
heart. In hot anger he put Nellie again to the 
gallop, and rode furiously home. When he ar- 
rived there, he went immediately to his room. 
When he came down he was in lay attire. The 
grieved look which his mother’s noticing that he 


-LofC. 


IOO 


How Baldy Won 

was in something else than clericals brought to 
her face, sent him back. 

Sitting on the edge of his bed, he thought the* 
matter through. Should he abandon the minis- 
try, there was but one thing open to him — jour- 
nalism. The thought of returning to that made 
him sick at heart. He would rather be doing 
something than reporting what was doing. The 
Church needed men who would preach pure Chris- 
tianity and take the consequences. Then it was 
not a pleasant thing to think of how those who 
had treated him so unmercifully would boast — 
in their hearts, if not openly, and, probably, 
openly, with many pious phrases — of how they 
had driven him from his calling. This was a 
not very noble consideration, but I fear that it 
had influence with him. Though an honest, and 
a brave, and a generous young fellow, he was very 
human. Maybe if he had not been very human 
he would not have been honest and brave and gen- 
erous. And does being even impetuously human 
• — as he certainly was — disqualify one for the 
priesthood ? Be this as it may, he made his mother 
very happy by appearing for dinner in his cleri- 
cals. She rose from her chair, went to him, kissed 
him, and said: 

“That’s right, my son ! You are in holy or- 
ders! Let that settle it! You have had trouble. 


IOI 


The County Seat. 

You will have more ! But be always true to the 
truth as you see it ! You may be whipped. But 
let it never be said of my son that he ran !” 

The old lady's eyes flashed; she stood erect; 
and her lips closed firmly as she concluded. He 
smiled through tears as he passionately returned 
her kiss, and said : 

“You've never heard of my running yet, have 
you, mother?” 

“Ho,” she replied, with a gleam of pride in her 
eyes, “not so far as a bodily enemy is concerned ! 
I have sometimes thought that you like physical 
warfare a little too well. I am anxious to know 
that you have fought and conquered some spirit- 
ual enemies. They are without you. There is 
spiritual pride in high places! You are sure to 
come in contact with that ! There are the powers 
of air and their prince. There is fame, if it should 
ever come to you. I do not speak of place and 
money, because you would care for them only to 
the extent that they would minister to fame. You 
see that I have made a close study of you. But 
these would not be dangerous were it not for those 
within, such — in your case — as impetuosity, dis- 
content and impatience. Close with them, Emory ! 
Master them !” 

Emory bowed, gave her his arm, and led her 
in to dinner, thinking, as he glanced at her burn- 


102 


How Baldy Won 

ing eyes, at her fine head and face, at her glory 
of gray hair, at her imposing figure, and noted her 
queenly bearing, that nowhere — and we know that 
he had been about a good deal — had he seen so 
splendid a woman, and saying to himself: 

“I do not wonder that my father fell in love 
with her !” 

The next day he received a letter from the 
Bishop offering him a position on the staff of the 
Cathedral clergy. 

He declined, as he did not care for the shelv- 
ing which becoming an institutional clergyman 
means. 

And there was another reason for his declina- 
tion. 

It will be remembered that his last bit of repor- 
torial work was the writing up of the opening by 
the Government of the new Southwest to settle- 
ment. 

Since then he had read much of that region, 
and had suddenly made up his mind to visit it. 

Indeed, he had already written to the Bishop 
who had it in charge, and received an encourag- 
ing reply. 

He would have been soon gone, had he not re- 
ceived another letter from his own Bishop, beg- 
ging him to serve on his cathedral staff for three 


The County Seat. 103 

or four months at least, assuring him that his 
doing so would be a personal favor. 

Having learned from the other Bishop that it 
would be better for him to not begin acclimatiz- 
ing in the new country in summer, he acceded to 
this request. 

Accordingly — when the time for which he 
had engaged was expiring, his Bishop saw how 
weary he was of the routine service which he had 
been performing, and did not press him to remain — • 
accordingly, September was nearly gone when he 
stepped from the train at Whaekston, having come 
over a branch which a main line had thrown out 
to that city, whose importance was greatly en- 
hanced by the opening of the country south of it. 

Whaekston was then a very different city from 
what it is now. The streets were unpaved, some of 
them covered with — only the two principal of them 
entirely free, in the centre, from — prairie grass. 
There were no sidewalks — save, here and there, in 
front of a store or a saloon, a little stretch of 
boards, full of knotholes, nailed to slender scant- 
lings — which was rather a platform to the door 
than a fraction of sidewalk — to be used cautiously, 
for it was apt to bob up at one end when a body 
stepped on the other. There was but one brick 
structure in the place — the Western Hotel. Most 
of the buildings w T ere flimsy affairs — of the same 


104 How Baldy Won 

fourth-class lumber as the platforms in front of 
some of them. There was some cheap paint to 
be seen, where it would be most in evidence. 
Everything had a new, piney look and smell. The 
scent was in the air of the streets, but one got the 
full benefit of it when he entered one of the build- 
ings — none of which were more than two-story, 
most of which were one-story, with a singular, use- 
less projection of the siding of the front in the 
air, above the roof — which must have been in- 
tended to make the building look larger, but which 
deceived nobody, for the buildings did not stand 
close together, and the roof could be seen around 
each edge of this — what shall 1 call it? Emory 
dubbed it to himself, visor, for the sun-blistered 
fronts of the buildings made him think of the 
peeling face of an urchin, who blinks, but never 
thinks of turning down the front of his cap. 

Emory was a deceptions fellow. His motions 
were rather slow and deliberate, when he was not 
excited. Most persons would have said that he 
was of the phlegmatic temperament. But, in fact, 
he was as restless as quicksilver. 

Having been in Whackston before, he did not go 
to the Western Hotel, which the majority held 
to be the better, but to the Houston House, which 
may have come of the fact that he w r as constitu- 
tionally of the minority. 


The County Seat. 105 

It stood a little to the east and south of where 
a long, wooden bridge crossed the Quicksand 
Biver, was painted a disagreeable yellow, and 
looked, standing on a slight rise of ground, the 
balloon that it was. It was so flimsy that it gave 
the impression that it was about to go up. The 
Whack st on Hawk — whose snappy energy gave 
promise of what it came to be in the days of the 
great boom — spoke of it — its proprietor rather fa- 
voring The Clipper * — as “a monument to the ma- 
licious falseness of what is said at the effete East 
with relation to our winds. More than a mild 
zephyr would take the Houston House to the Rock- 
ies, the Atlantic, or the Gulf of Mexico, and there 
she stands as if she were built of porphyry and 
founded on a rock !” 

I .have tried to convey an idea of it, because in 
it Emory had an adventure that has caused him to 
remember it through the years, and gave him a 
high place in its traditions while it stood, which 
it did till the great boom carried it away with the 
Whackston of which it was so prominent a part. 
But this adventure came in the evening, and be- 
fore its occurrence he had seen the town, and had 
some rather unusual experiences. 

Most persons, after the long, weary trip which 
had just ended for him, would have desired rest 
and quiet. But he, from a constitutional necessity 


106 How Baldy Won 

of being always engaged, as well as from his jour- 
nalistic habits, was disposed to look about. 

He had arrived about the middle of the after- 
noon. When he had registered and made sure 
of his room, he went into the streets. What he 
saw in the way of architecture I have already in- 
timated. The people whom he saw were mostly 
men. The few women abroad were painted. Evi- 
dently the matrons of the place remained within 
at that hour and kept their daughters with them. 
Most of the men wore broad-brimmed, light-col- 
ored felt hats — many of them banded with the 
skins of rattlesnakes. Their coats were of the 
sacque sort — not much more than roundabouts. 
About their waists were cartridge and revolver- 
belts. Their trousers were — as were the coats of 
many of them — of leather, fringed at the outer 
seams, coming to the ankles in some cases, in 
others entering the tops of boots — from the 
right of which, very often, stuck the wicked-look- 
ing handle of a knife. Many of them had a short- 
stepping, -waddling walk. This was at least par- 
tially caused by the fact that the heels of their 
boots were high, slender and well in towards the 
centre of the foot. But their legs were bowed, 
and did not seem to be strong. They appeared 
to be unaccustomed to walking. From their lan- 
guage he concluded that they were not accustomed 


The County Seat. 107 

to flying, or in training for that method of 
progress. Had there been need, for him the mys- 
tery would have been solved when one of them 
mounted. His impulse was to be in the saddle, 
and he was there ! He uttered no word, made no 
sign, but a score of others mounted, also — or were 
on their ponies — so immediately after he was on 
his that they seemed to be astride almost simul- 
taneously with him. 

Then occurred what Emory happened to have 1 
not seen before. The mounted men took the reins 
in their mouths, sank their spurs — long and cruel 
ones — in their ponies’ flanks, drew a revolver in 
each hand, and, swinging them about, yelling like 
fiends, dashed along, shooting in every direction. 
When they had gone a few blocks they turned 
and came back. They would swerve from one side 
of the street to the other, pause, dash ahead — 
they would move in involutions, evolutions, con- 
volutions — without a word, or even a motion of 
command. They acted — not as individuals. They 
seemed to be governed by a corporate will — as is 
a flock of prairie cowbirds. The ponies did not 
obey the reins — for they hung loosely from the 
riders’ mouths. They may have responded to a 
pressure from the knee or a touch from the heel. 
But the apparent corporate will seemed to be 
governing them in common with the ones whom 


108 How Baldy Won 

they were bearing. Apparently aimlessly the com- 
pany would dash down a side street, to reappear 
on the main avenue, having passed around a block. 
The scene was barbaric, not to say savage — ex- 
citing. Emory was so absorbed by it that he al- 
lowed the rough-riders to pass him two or three 
times — regardless of the danger to which he was 
exposed — or, rather, feeling, subsconsciously, that 
there was more apparent than real recklessness in 
the shooting, that few, if any, of the balls were 
going where they were not deliberately sent. 
Finally, a hoarse voice cried: “Take care, there, 
tenderfoot !” and a ball whistled near his ear. 

He darted around a building. As it was not 
the Western Hotel, it was, of course, frame. He 
would have felt more comfortable had it not been 
so full of knot-holes. Others had been wiser than 
he; for in glancing up and down the street, as he 
took shelter, he saw that it was empty of all but 
the horsemen. The cowboys had started in to run 
the town, and they were doing it — with opposi- 
tion from nobody. 

They galloped back and forth once, after 
Emory’s retreat. Then the thunder of their 
ponies’ feet was heard on the bridge spanning the 
Quicksand, and they were off to the vast herds of 
cattle on the open prairies to the west. As soon 
as they were gone the main avenue was again 


109 


The County Seat. 

crowded, and its picturesque life — in which min- 
gled capitalists, cattle-men, desperadoes and blan- 
keted Indians — went on as usual. 

In studying this life — walking up and down, 
dropping into places where clergymen do not com- 
monly go, such as saloons, dance-halls, gambling- 
hells, shooting-galleries — Emory spent a couple of 
hours. For the time, interested in the scenes 
among which he found himself — (from the fact 
that he was a trained item-hunter, and from his 
natural disposition) — he did not think of being 
in orders. It was always so with him. He was 
always shocking the clerical proprieties. 

When he returned to the Houston House, the 
last call to supper had been given. When he 
stepped into the office the landlord in person ap- 
proached him and advised him of this fact. He 
did not take the time to go to his room, but went 
to the public toilet, washed his hands, dried them 
on a somewhat fresh common towel, and entered 
the dining-room. 

Most of the chairs were occupied. After some 
delay he found himself seated, his back to the 
wall, at the farther end of the room. Opposite 
him sat a typical cold-gray-eyed, long-haired bad- 
man. As he was ordering, he was aware that the 
bad-man was eyeing him. The Scotch Highlander 
of the day of James II. did not take offense more 


no 


How Baldy Won 

easily than did the Southern gentlemen among 
whom he was reared and from a long line of whom 
he came. He eyed the bad-man. The bad-man 
became aggressive. Taking the cruet and reach- 
ing it to Emory, he said : 

“Have some vinegar ?” 

“Thank you.” 

“Have some salt?” reaching the cellar. 

“No, sir !” 

“Have some pepper?” reaching the shaker. 
“No ! !” 

“Then HI pepper you !” drawing both of his 
revolvers at once and pointing them at Emory, 
with a flood of profanity at which I would not 
dare to even hint. 

Emory’s heart rose in his throat, and he could 
f s eel his cheeks blanch. But as long as one is aware 
of the rising of his heart and the blanching of his 
cheeks he is not overcome by fear, his faculties are 
not absolutely paralyzed, he ma}^, at least, remem- 
ber. There popped into his mind an incident of 
his early boyhood. His mother was warning him 
against ever losing his self-respect. Upon his ask- 
ing her what she meant, she replied: “Never let 
anybody who hasn’t the right make you do any- 
thing!” His spirit strengthened. He felt that 
his tormenter felt the steadying of his look be- 
tween the muzzles. But the bad-man had the drop 


Ill 


The County Seat. 

on the tenderfoot, and intended to make the most 
of it ! He said : 

“Have some vinegar!” 

“No r 

Both the revolvers went off, and the balls passed 
Emory’s ears, and went through the wall behind 
him. 

“Some salt?” 

“No !” 

Two more balls passed Emory’s ears. 

“Some pepper?” 

“No !” 

Again the revolvers were discharged. 

“Allow me to press my hospitality. Some vine- 
gar?” 

“No !” 

Two more balls nearer the ears. 

“Salt ?” 

“No !” 

Two more balls, still nearer the ears. 

“Pepper ?” 

“No !” 

Two more balls, so near the ears that they were 
stung. 

The bad-man’s revolvers were now empty. 

Saying to Emory : “You’re a good one !” he 
proceeded to reload. He would probably have been 
more cautious had not Emory been a tenderfoot. 


112 


How Baldy Won 

As it was, he laid one revolver by his plate while 
he charged the chambers of the other. This done 
— as his mind turned to the one — Emory darted 
his hand across the table, snatched the other, and 
had him. 

Everybody in the dining-room had recognized 
the character of the shooting, seen that he was in 
no danger from it, and remained. Others had 
come in. So there was a copious witnessing of 
what followed. 

Covering the bad-man, Emory said: 

“Please accept my thanks for your attentive- 
ness, and allow me to return it ! Have some pep- 
per ?” 

The bad-man took some, without hesitation, and 
with a smile, which was somewhat sickly. 

“Have some more T 

The bad-man took some more, sneezing violently 
— to the amusement of the crowd. 

“Have some salt?” 

The bad-man took some. 

“Take a handful !” 

The bad-man swallowed at least a tablespoon- 
ful. 

“Now, having eaten, you need a digester ! Have 
some vinegar. It is of old vintage !” 

The bad-man gulped down a mouthful. 


The County Seat. 113 

"Drink again ! Stand and drink ! Pledge the 
company l” 

He did so ; then looked at Emory, sheepishly — 
in a way which asked: 

"What's next?” 

Emory replied: 

"I hope, sir, that you have enjoyed our meet- 
ing as much as I have ! I shall ever remember it 
as one of the delightful events of my life ! I shall 
keep this” — fingering the revolver — "as a sou- 
venir! I'm hungry. Waiter, you remember my 
order !” 

"Yes, sah !” 

The bad-man did not wait to finish the supper, 
in the midst of which he had stopped for the fun 
— which he got. 


1 14 


How Baldy Won 


CHAPTER IX. 

THE STOMACH AND THE HEAD. 

But Emory was only passing through Whacks- 
ton. He had seen the Bishop in charge of the new 
Southwest, and was on his way to the post to which 
he had been assigned — Breezemead — in the Butter- 
nut Valley — which fertile valley — fertile in fact, 
as well, as according to the abundantly 
illustrated, heavily capitalized and brilliant- 
ly colored circulars which had been scat- 
tered over the East — one of which had fallen under 
* Emory’s eye and taken his attention because it had 
a quotation from his last newspaper article — which 
valley had been swept clean of its Indian owners, 
not without pretext, of course, but really on the 
ground that “might makes right” — something at 
which Emory had hinted in copy — which hint could 
not have appeared in quotation on a circular, or 
elsewhere, as it had perished from that slashing 
editorial weapon — the blue-pencil. 

These circulars had had the desired effect. 


The County Seat. 115 

Emory had seen and heard evidences everywhere 
that the Butternut Valley was rapidly filling with 
a desirable class of settlers. 

There had been a rush to it at the first. It is 
in human nature — especially in the American hu- 
man nature — to try the new thing. How much 
man has in common with the lower animal ! The 
better pasture is over the fence. If you want your 
cattle to eat clover hay rather than timothy, give 
them plenty of timothy, and build a fence about 
the clover — a fence under which they can get their 
heads. When you take it down you will be for- 
tunate if they do not founder themselves on what 
they would not have cared for had it not been 
for the fence. 

Though occasional violation of the prohibition 
was winked at — no doubt, that those who “spied 
out the land” might bring back a glowing report, 
as such spies always do, a bunch.of wild grapes as 
long as the finger appearing to them more luscious 
than the finest Concords, and, at least, as long as 
a rail, and three inches of soil looking to be three 
feet — though, I say, occasional violation of the pro- 
hibition was winked at, yet in the statute, made 
and provided, no one was allowed to enter the But- 
ternut Valley or any other portion of the new 
Southwest, after it was decided that it should be 
opened to settlement, before a fixed date. 


Ii6 How Baldy Won 

To enforce this prohibition, a cordon of soldiers 
was placed, weeks before the opening. Thousands 
pressed upon this thin line. This was especially 
true from the north. There for miles canvas-cov- 
ered wagons and tents covered the prairies. Long 
before the breaking of the day of the opening, tents 
were folded, teams were hitched, and the horses* 
noses were over the line of demarkation. The mo- 
ment arrived. The rush was frightful. The wheels 
of wagons locked — men shouted and swore — 
women screamed — children cried. Horsemen 
darted ahead, and made mad rushes for specially 
desirable claims — the locations of which were re- 
markably well known, taking into account the stat- 
ute definitely intended, and supposed to be en- 
forced, against such knowledge. Under such cir- 
cumstances it may be too much to expect that the 
average “miserable sinner** will be over-regardful 
of the truth or the law — not being under special 
pledge to respect it. But the guards forming the 
cordon? Well, a drink in a dry country, or the 
rustle of a bill, or the blink of bright eyes, has a 
peculiarly blinding effect on eyes which are clear 
enough when an armed enemy is to be looked at, 
expected, or even a possibility. 

In many cases these riders had their trouble for 
their pains — found the claim for which they made 
already staked out. Though the name did not 


The County Seat. 117 

come till later, there were “sooners” in the land. 

As is known, all this occurred nearly three years 
before the morning which succeeded Emory’s ad- 
venture with the bad-man; an account of it is in 
place here from the fact that it was refreshed in 
his memory by a character to whom the reader shall 
be immediately introduced, and under circum- 
stances which shall at once appear. 

I have already intimated that Whaekston was 
reached by rail. Breezemead was still some fifty 
or sixty miles south, and reached by stage. 

Upon the morning in mind, Emory was up 
early — earlier than necessary — though the stage 
started early. He had not slept much. He had 
been nervous at retiring, and had remained so 
over night. This came, not so much of the ad- 
venture — though that was surely enough to make 
him nervous — as of the imagining of what the 
effect of the report of it — and the facts would lose 
none of their picturesqueness in The Hawk — might 
have upon the Bishop and upon the wardens, ves^ 
trymen, communicants and parishioners generally 
of the church which he was upon his way to serve.* 

He was standing on the veranda of the Houston 
House when the stage approached, swung round 
and brought up with a flourish. 

It was a heavy, covered affair, but ran lightly. 
The six slender, quick-footed, and powerful horses 


1 1 8 How Baldy Won 

which drew it were driven by a short, heavy-set 
man, whose foot was on the lever of the brake, 
whose features were remarkably like those of Phil 
Sheridan, whose long and firm upper lip, as it 
rose slightly and fell over great, even teeth, none 
of which was missing, made one think of the awn- 
ing over a window of a hardware-store. When he 
had brought them to a standstill by a resonant 
“Whoa !” and fondled them with enough profanity 
to last an ordinary Eastern man a lifetime, he 
called out, commanding]} 7 : 

“All aboard !” 

There were enough passengers to a little more 
than comfortably fill the coach. A traveling-man, 
who was evidently accustomed to this mode of trav- 
eling, caught the tire of a front wheel and put a 
foot on the hub, as if he would mount to a seat 
beside the driver. He was stopped by that digni- 
tary’s touching him with the whip-handle, and 
saying : 

“Not so fast ! — that’s the man, this trip !” bring- 
ing the. handle round towards Emory — much to 
Emory’s surprise, who had not met him. 

But the landlord said : “That’s right, Jim !” 
and to Emory: 

“He wants to honor you ! Let him ! He’s King 
of the road !” 

So Emory clambered to the seat which had been 


The County Seat. 119 

coveted by the drummer — to admire — as they 
started, as they passed down the main avenue, dur- 
ing the whole trip, in fact — the way in which the 
King — the name which the landlord had used 
fitted perfectly — handled the lines, the whip, and 
the horses — each of whom he knew, not only by 
name, but to his minutest physical and mental 
characteristic. And they knew him — as was evi- 
dent from the way in which they responded when 
he spoke — to one peremptorily, to another ad- 
monishingly, to another encouragingly — to each, 
sooner or later, caressingly. It was a delight to 
see him throw out the long, plaited lash of the 
whip and touch any one of them on any spot of 
the person that his eye had chosen. 

He was full of reminiscences of each of them. 
For instance, he said: 

“Hoax — the off leader — is the finest saddle liors§ 
a man need want to straddle. If I’m the owner 
of anything — which I would be if I had the mort- 
gages paid off — I owe it to him. I rode him all 
over this country while it belonged to the Indians. 
I was in it, with him, most of the time the would- 
be settlers were being held back. I had to do a 
lot of hoaxing to keep from being driven out, for 
I hadn't much money, and only the privates of the 
guard came cheap. He became about as good a 
hoaxer as I was. You can see for yourself that 


120 


How Baldy Won 

he is as full of motion as a wren, but when I 
stood by him in the high grass waiting for a chance 
to slip by a sentinel, as I did many times, he was 
as quiet as a dove. And when I thought I saw 
my chance, he would seem to understand, and 
move with a slyness and a precaution which would 
have been creditable to a fox. Now and then a 
squad of soldiers would be sent into the forbidden 
district to see that it was free from invaders. 
Once I thought I was a goner. I was shielded 
from view by a roll in the prairie. Dismounting, 
I took off his saddle and bridle and said to him : 
‘Go, and come back when the danger is passed ? 
— without the slightest notion that he would un- 
derstand my sentence — though I have known lower 
animals who were capable of that — but not with- 
out hope that a word or two might convey to him 
what I wanted him to do. Having laid his snout 
on my shoulder, touched my cheek with his, and 
given a low whinny, he trotted to the top of the 
roll, stood there for a moment, then head and 
tail in air, with a snort, started suddenly, at a 
gallop, athwart the course of the bluecoats. When 
they came within view of where T lay in the wild 
rye, they were looking at him as he flew awa}^. 
They showed no disposition to follow him. That 
would have been useless. The important thing to 


I 2 I 


The County Seat. 

me was that he had taken their attention in a 
direction away from me.” 

“Do you think he intended to do so?” asked 
Emory. 

After a moment’s hesitation, the King replied: 
“During my last year in Yale — -you don’t look as- 
tonished !” 

“No,” replied Emory. “When I had heard you 
speak half a dozen words I did not need to be told 
that you were an educated man. And I have 
knocked about enough to know that in this country, 
especially at the West, one may find a man of edu- 
cation in any position — not that I think that 
handling the lines over such a team as the one be- 
fore us is an occupation beneath anyone !” 

The King first looked grim, as there are few 
men of mind and sensibility who do not in glanc; 
ing back through their lives — caught his breath 
sharply, in remembering some particular ex- 
perience — then smiled in response to the compli- 
ment to. his horses, and said: 

“I paid more attention to psychology than I did 
to the curriculum. I have had to unlearn things 
that I accepted then. Nobody can associate with 
the lower animals as intimately as I have during 
the past thirty years without finding that there is 
more in them than the books are willing to allow. 
But what’s the use? Whether Hoax intended to 


122 


How Baldy Won 

take attention away from where I lay in the wild 
rye or not, he did so effectively. And what is 
more, when the enemy was out of sight he came 
back to me, whinnied joyfully when he reached 
me, and sighed with satisfaction as I rebridled 
and saddled and mounted him P 

."All that would indicate reason!” said Emory. 

The King shook his head affirmatively, but 
'seemed indisposed to commit himself more fully 
on that point, and changed the subject to safer 
ground by saying : 

"Pie has a wonderful instinct. We were once 
close pressed. The guard was so on the alert that 
I feared that if I made for the north we would be 
taken. So I headed for the west. This I did 
trusting to the favor of accident, for there was no 
point south of the bridge at Whackston where it 
was known that the Quicksand could be crossed. 
The squad saw us, and, as you see, the character 
of the country is such that we could not keep out 
of its sight for long. It thought it had us, by de- 
ploying so that by a rush we could be kept from 
escaping to the north — had there been any hope 
in that direction — or to the south. I did the only 
thing to be done under the circumstances — kept 
straight ahead. When the river was reached Hoax 
seemed indisposed to stop. He took the water at 
the roots of a cottonwood and left it at another 


123 


The County Seat 

tree of the same sort, having gone directly across. 
Those trees have been my guides in crossing many 
a time since.” Kot knowing that he might not de- 
sire to be guided by them some time, realizing that 
any information may at some point in his ex- 
periences be beneficial to anyone, and from jour- 
nalistic habit, Emory kept an eye out for them all 
day — which was possible from the fact that 
through the whole drive they were never out of 
sight of the valley of the Quicksand. 

Now he said: 

“The time of the opening of this region to set- 
tlement must have been a very interesting one !” 

“Yes,” answered the King. 

Then came the refreshing of memory to Emory, 
of which I have spoken — which concluded with : 

“Those were the days! and the least interesting 
of them was not the day of the actual opening !” 

“I found it absorbing !” said Emory. 

“What, were you here?” 

“Yes; as correspondent for The Western Find - 

erT 

“Then you wrote that article from which the 
cpiotations were made for the circulars which went 
East !” 

“Yes.” 

“Well, I was a member of the committee which 
composed those circulars, and — a thing which I 


124 


How Baldy Won 

would rather you should not mention — did all the 
* work ! I thought you must have had training out- 
side a theological seminary !” 

“Well done !” exclaimed Emory — indisposed to 
bring theological seminaries under criticism. 

They were crossing the narrow, wooded valley of 
a sluggish stream, and the driver had knocked 
from an ear of the near leader with the cracker of 
the lash, one of those triangular flies which in this 
region so pester animals in such places — knocked 
it off without touching the ear enough to more 
than make the horse slightly shake his head, in a 
way which seemed to indicate rather pleasure at 
relief from the fly than pain from the stroke. 

“You’re certainly an expert with your whip, 

Mr. !” 

“Cheese the mister ! I’m simply driver, or 
Jim ” 

“Or King !” interjected Emory. 

The King nodded, smiled and went on : 

“And I ought to know how to handle the whip ! 
I’ve been using it long enough !” 

As, some time later, they were approaching the 
dinner-station, Emory said: 

“I notice that you never more than touch your 
horses. I haven’t seen you strike one of them 
yet !” 

The reply was: “I’d strike one of them soon 


125 


The County Seat. 

enough and hard enough, did he need it! And 
they know it ! Maybe that* s the reason I don’t 
have to strike oftener. I don’t like to strike. 
They may know that, too. And it may make them 
the more willing to serve me. Horses are per- 
sons !” 

When they came out from dinner, Emory saw 
that another team was to draw them farther south. 

They had not been long on the road when he re- 
marked to the King: 

“I see that you know these fellows, their names 
and peculiarities, as well as you did those whom we 
have left.” 

The King replied: “Were I the boss of a gang 
of men, don’t you suppose I’d study them, to find 
out what was in each of them?” 

This was his sermon on his statement, before 
dinner, that “horses are persons,” and it was long 
enough, and complete of its kind. 

That day’s ride with the King was an event in 
the life of the Reverend Mr. Emberson. He often 
speaks of it. A strong, sweet wind blew from the 
south — as it does constantly in that region, at that 
season of the year — with the salt odors of the dis- 
tant Gulf of Mexico faintly upon it; the sky was 
deep and warm ; the prairie grasses waved over 
wide reaches of undulations; the wild rye nodded 
by the trail; an eagle mounted, became a speck, 


126 


How Baldy Won 

disappeared; a hawk sailed on level, still wings on 
the horizon; herds of cattle with long, wide horns 
were met and passed ; occasionally there was a 
ranch with corrals and fields of corn. Everything 
was open and free. 

He felt kinship with the eagle which he watched 
for hours — till it was lost to sight. 

After crossing the stream in the bottom of which 
the King flipped the fly with the cracker, the 
trail wound “to the lay of the land” over uplands 
till towards evening, when it descended abruptly 
into the valley of the Butternut, at a point a mile 
or so west of Breezemead. 

Before beginning this descent, Emory nodded 
his head over his right shoulder and asked: 

“Hoax’s trees ?” — concluding that two which 
stood some distance apart several miles to the 
west must be they — which seemed a natural conclu- 
sion from the fact that they were the only ones of 
considerable size which had been seen on the 
Quicksand since Whackston was left. 

“Do you expect that they’ll be of service to 
you?” asked the King drily. 

“No telling ! But a newspaper man is thankful 
for any knowledge !” 

“I hope the newspapers won’t get hold of this !” 

“No; I’m out of the business; and weren’t 


i 


127 


The County Seat. 

As — Emory having spoken somewhat warmly of 
ts being as much the duty of a newspaper man to 
/espeet a confidence as it is of another man — the 
King replied: “As that, for instance, of a horse- 
thief to respect his neighbor’s ownership of prop- 
erty which can carry itself away !” — they reached 
their destination. 

It was about six o’clock, when, to the crackling 
of the King’s whip, in a cloud of dust, they rolled 
up to the Adnogal House — the yellow of which 
was so exactly and unpleasantly that of the Hous- 
ton House that the thought crossed Emory’s mind 
that they must have been painted from the same 
pot. 

The arrival of the stage from the north, in which 
direction lay civilization, was a great event in the 
towm, which — as Emory heard every one of its in- 
habitants to whom he talked say — was not to be 
“sneezed at” in comparison with Whackston, as it 
was something like half as large and had two brick 
buildings. One of these was the Crowley County 
Bank. 

Within an hour after his arrival, having washed 
up a bit, Emory walked into this bank — to the 
president of which he carried a letter from the 
Bishop — addressed to “Mr. Martin Bynson, Senior 
Warden of St. John’s Church.” 

He was received kindly. 


128 


How Baldy Won 

Excepting that he had the bank official’s smile 
— that smile which parts and widens the lips as if 
they were worked by a string pulled by somebody 
back in the head — as maybe they are — excepting 
this smile — which caused Emory to think of how 
much men of the same calling are alike whether 
found in the great city or in the little shanty fron- 
tier town — he liked Mr. Bynson — who immediately 
took him out and introduced him to the junior 
warden and two or three of the leading vestry- 
men. 

The junior warden was a Mr. Samuel M. 
Nothym — whose face was very striking, from the 
fact that it was full of blue freckles — the result, 
Emory learned afterwards, of the explosion of a 
gun — which came about in so interesting a way, 
and throws so much light upon Mr. Nothym’s char- 
acter, that it seems to me that it would be inar- 
tistic to not give an idea of it here. 

Though married, Mr. N’othvm had come alone 
to Breezemead and opened a hardware store. 
Alone in the store — where lie slept — he one night, 
heard, or imagined he heard, burglars attempting 
to make entrance. He seized his shotgun and 
tried to fire. It would not go off. It was an old- 
fashioned, tubed gun. Some insisted that in his 
hurry he had forgotten there was no cap on the 
tube. Be that as it may, he cocked it and let the 


129 


The County Seat. 

hammer down half a dozen times without its dis- 
charging. He was in a desperate hurry. He must 
make a warlike noise. It was winter, and there 
was one of those cold snaps which will come even 
in the Butternut Valley. The heating stove was 
red hot. He jerked back the hammer and placed 
the tube as nearly as possible on the hottest spot. 
And — the gun more than went off. When the 
night-watchman broke in he found Mr. No thy m 
on the floor, unconscious. He was soon about, as 
well as ever, but his face was thereafter blotched 
and mottled to an extent that was startling to 
one meeting him for the first time. 

And for another reason, it might as well be ad- 
ded, his face was striking. It was cleanly shaven, 
save for a goatee — not where a goatee belongs — in 
the centre of the lower lip and chin — but to one 
side. He shaved himself, and could never keep 
from leaving some hairs at the right and sever- 
ing some to the left. 

The first vestryman to whom Mr. Bynson in- 
troduced Emory was Doctor Gray — whose distin- 
guishing characteristics were light blue eyes, in- 
tensely red hair and full beard, fiery face, and teeth 
double in front as well as back, wide apart, as 
firmly set as the merlons of the parapet of a feudal 
castle, all showing in a full yet snickering laugh, 
suggesting a stubborn and cruel nature. Yet there 


130 


How Baldy Won 

was the indication of the possibility of affection 
in his look. Emory thought: 

“A dangerous enemy, but a friend who would 
stand by you through thick and thin !” 

The other vestrymen to whom the new clergy- 
man was introduced were of the rank and file or- 
der — who would follow the lead of such men as the 
senior warden and Doctor Gray ; so nothing further 
need be said about them. 

The introductions over, Mr. Bynson walked to 
the Adnogal with the new-comer, saying, among 
other things, on the way : 

“Whackston has the start. But it isn’t in the 
Butternut Valley ! Here Breezemead has the first 
place. Then it is the county seat of Crowley 
County ! True, the county seat question is again 
before the people — through the treachery of our 
State representatives and senator, or their foolish- 
ness — I don’t know that it matters much which — 
though I confess that 1 prefer a scoundrel to a 
fool. Our rival for the county seat is Centre- 
ville, which is always harping on being in the ex- 
act geographical centre of the county !” 

Emory laughed, saying: 

“The stomach is in about the centre of a man’s 
physical organization ; but that isn’t an overwhelm- 
ingly good reason why it should run him rather 
than the head !” 


The County Seat. 13 1 

Mr. Bynson gave him a quick glance, and, the 
veranda of the Adnogal now reached, said, as he 
turned away: 

“There is no reason why the church here should 
not succeed l” 


l£2 


How Baldy Won 


CHAPTER X. 

DUCKS AND PRAIRIE CHICKENS. 

To be a successful journalist one must have at 
least five characteristics. He must be curious, 
have a nose as quick and infallible for an item as 
that of a lurcher for a rabbit, be restless, have the 
appearance of being ever content, and be capable 
of saying a great deal in a few words. 

If I haven’t shown that these characteristics were 
compounded in Emory, I hope that I may have 
done so before this history is completed. 

Soon after parting from Mr. Bvnson, he was 
sitting at supper at the table with the landlord’s 

daughter, Miss . But allow me to reserve her 

name till she becomes an actress in this history. 

One seeing him would have said that there was 
nothing to be desired by him. 

Upon rising from table, he stepped into the 
office, lighted a cigar, thought of how an old city 


The County Seat. i 0 3 

editor had said to him : “Stick to the lead pencil f 
Don't spoil a good journalist by making of yourself 
a poor parson !” and went out for a stroll — to see 
something of the town into which he had dropped. 

Catching a glimpse of the court house — Breeze- 
mead’s other brick building — he walked towards it. 
It and the jail were the two buildings on a plaza. 
As he was approaching it from the main part of 
» the town, he was surprised that he had to pass the 
jail to reach it, and that it fronted the other way. 
But he was no longer surprised when he reached 
a point from which he could see that the houses 
upon which it looked were evidently those of the 
most wealthy of the community. How on earth 
could a new community develop without money? 
And how can there be money without its being in 
the hands of the few? And must not these few 
enjoy a certain immunity from the law? Else 
how can money run and be glorified? 

Some such questions asj:hese were running over 
each other in his mind, when his attention was 
taken by a drawling exclamation: 

“H— ell— o, Em !” 

“Hello, Hugh !” he responded, starting forward, 
and reaching out his hand impulsively. “I didn’t 
expect this pleasure ! I knew that you had fol- 
lowed the westering sun, but I didn’t know where 
he had led you !” 


134 


How Baldy Won 

He turned and retraced his steps with Hugh 
Charles — a relative — his senior by several years. 

He was a character. He had served through the 
Civil War — in which he might have risen to high 
things had he had ambition. The war over, he 
re-entered school — where he had distinguished 
himself as a boy. He not only learned quickly, 
but saw principles. He had money, and the law, 
medicine and the priesthood were open to him. 
Before an audience words had no trouble in leav- 
ing his mouth, and he spoke as one inspired. He 
wrote with elegance. He was one of the finest 
Shakespearean scholars of his time — which, taking 
into account his youth, was remarkable, and could 
only be accounted for by knowing and remembering 
the character of his mind, that he was not overly 
given to the pleasures of the mess, and that on 
march and in bivouac the plays of the greatest of 
literary geniuses, were his library. Through a 
paper which he wrote, left upon his desk, and 
which a professor found and published, his fame 
got abroad, and he was consulted by savants and 
literati from all quarters on the use of the English 
tongue. Some of the letters of these men he an- 
swered, but to most of them he paid no attention. 
It was suggested that he go into mercantile life. 
He did so — without the slightest interest. It need 


The County Seat. 135 

not be said that he failed. With the remnant of 
his patrimony and what had accumulated to his 
credit during the war — he had never gone to the 
trouble to draw his pay — he drifted away and — at 
the opening of the new Southwest — settled on a 
worthless upland claim — because he rather liked 
the sunset from where he had accidentally pitched 
his camp. How many lives have set in the Great 
American Desert — have set when they should have 
been rising! 

As they walked Hugh said : 

“I was looking for you !” 

“You knew that I was coming!” 

“Yes.” 

“How?” 

In reply, Hugh took from his pocket a copy 
of The Daily Wliacksion Hawk. 

Reaching for it, Emory said : “I have been anx- 
ious to see that ! I inquired for it this morning, 
but it seems that it is not out before the stage 
starts/’ and asked: “How^did it get here?” 

“It comes by a buckboard, which is sent down 
by a shorter route than that taken by the stage.” 

While the question was being answered — which 
took considerable time in Hugh’s drawl — Emory 
was taking in the following headlines, which were 
printed in large, full-faced capitals: 


136 


How Baldy Won 

SAFE ? 

NOT ALWAYS — 

TO TACKLE A TENDERFOOT 

EVEN IF HE IS A PREACHER! 

THE KEY. EMORY M. EMBERSON! 

W T E SHOULD HAVE HIM IN WIIACKSTON ! 

BUT HE’S NEEDED IN BREEZEMEAD ! 

A MAN WHO WILL SUCCEED ANYWHERE! 

HOW BLINK-EYED TOM OF THE COWSKIN MET HIS 

MATCH ! 

a beeclier’s bible well handled! 

The story thus startlingly introduced was as 
startling. It gave an astonishing account of 
Emory. It spoke of him as a graduate of two 
American, one French and three German universi- 
ties. Young as he was, he had been offered the 
rectorate of Old Trinity, in New York City. 
He had been elected a Bishop, but had declined 
the honor that he might devote himself to Sanskrit, 
which difficult language he read and wrote as well 
as he did English, and spoke as a native ! No one 
in the whole history of the West had shown more 
nerve than he did, when covered by the revolvers 
of Blink-Eyed Tom — the worst man in the past ten 
years’ history of the frontier — who upon the morn- 
ing of the very day of his running up against Mr. 
Emberson caused his twelfth victim, since he has 


The County Seat. 137 

been amongst us, to bite the dust. Those who 
were present when the young clergyman’s hand 
darted out for the bad-man’s gun did not see it; 
it moved so quickly that it could not be followed 
by the human vision. And the man under whose 
eye such a bad-man quails must have a strong, a 
bold and a steady glance, which means business. 

“What effect will this confounding affair, and 
the still more confounding account of it have, 
Hugh?” asked Emory, with a sick smile. 

“You’re a made man !” drawled Hugh, with a 
long-drawn smile, which showed that he had been 
West long enough to feel the same admiration for 
Emory’s promptness and grit that had evidently 
been felt by the reporter. 

“What are you going to do this evening?” asked 
Emory, a corner reached at which Hugh said he 
must turn off. 

With a smile which was secretive and full of 
humor, Hugh answered: 

“We’r-e out West here, E — m, and we don’t tell 
ev-eryb-o-dy what we’re g-o-ing to do !” 

With a laugh, Emory said: 

“If you have time, come round to the Adnogal 
House this evening, and we’ll have a chat over old 
times and about the folk !” 

“A-ll r-ight !” drawled Hugh. “Maybe I can 
come for a little bit — early. I’ll be engaged 


138 How Baldy Won 

later/ 5 and moved away with his head down, which 
was his way of carrying that important part of 
his anatomy, and a quick, uneven step, which was 
in singular contrast with his slow and drawling 
speech. 

When Hugh came, Emory was sitting in the 
office, smoking. He arose, greeted his guest, and 
led the way upstairs, into an oblong room, some six 
feet one way by ten the other, with no furniture 
save a single bed, a straight-backed chair and a 
wash-stand. The walls were of plain, pine boards, 
the carpet was of cheap, two-ply, strikingly figured 
ingrain, and there was but one narrow window, of 
eight by ten panes for light and ventilation. This 
was Emory’s room. He could not but think of 
how roastingly hot it w r ould be in the summer. 
But in this autumn weather it was not uncomfort- 
able in the particular of heat. 

The conversation was soon reminiscent. Emory 
spoke of those who had gone from the family ranks 
in the years that Hugh had been away. It is won- 
derful how tender, and. simple, and boy-like men 
become in such talks ! But with a young man this 
cannot last long. When, upon some slight sugges- 
tion, his attention turned to the future, Emory, 
who had thrown himself on the bed, rose to his 
elbow, as the light of anticipated conquests, and 
yearnings for conflict, came to his eyes. Hugh 


139 


The County Seat. 

looked at him, understood his spirit, thought, with 
a pitiful grin: “How the boy will be disappoint- 
ed !” said : “You always were something on look- 
ing ahead, Em !” and asked : “Do you remember 
that once, in a conversation which we had on the 
subject of your becoming a clergyman, you said 
that when the time came you would marry me ?” 

Emory nodded. 

“Well, the t-i-m-e’s come !” 

“The thunder you say !” exclaimed Emory, sit- 
ting up, coming with a jolt to the present, and 
forgetting that he was a clergyman. 

At this Hugh had a slow convulsion of laughter. 
As it abated somewhat he said: 

“I’ve found a prairie chicken ! Whether you’ll 
like her or not I don’t know — nor do I care a con- 
tinental ! She s-u-i-t-s me !” 

At this Emory also had a convulsion of laughter. 
As it passed, he said : 

“Certainly — I’ll marry you ! What’s the date !” 

“Not definitely settled yet,” answered Hugh, 
and then asked, with his long-drawn grin, through 
which appeared the solemnity with which a man 
who is engaged always asks such a question of 
another man : “I presume you know what a serious 
matter fixing the date is, Em ?” 

“No,” was the reply, “my thought with relation 
to marriage has never gone that far !” 


140 How Baldy Won 

“But it will ! This is a great country for bring- 
ing such subjects to one’s mind. It may be in the 
air. I think it’s in the air, the earth and the sky. 
The prairies are so still ! One’s soul gets full of 
all sorts of great sentiments. He wants someone 
to whom he can try to express them — not a com- 
panion, not a friend — each of whom is well 
enough, in his way, and place — but another — 
ahem ! — self.” 

As Hugh drawled this out, there was something 
infinitely funny in it to Emory. He threw him- 
self on the broad of his back in another convul- 
sion of laughter. When he was recovering, he 
heard Hugh saying: 

“You may laugh, my boy, but you’ll experience 
what I mention, and then you’ll be making up to a 
chicken !” 

“But,” said Emory, as he wiped his eyes, “I 
won’t be on the prairies ; I’ll be in town !” 

“Yes,” said Hugh, “hut isn’t the town on the 
prairies? And you’ll not always be in the town. 
When you’re out of it, alone — then the prairies 
will sink under you, rise about you, envelop you — 
then you will feel their vastness, their stillness — 
then they will suggest all sorts of immense things 
to you. After that you will not be able to stay off 
them !” 

Emory, who had again sat up, said meditatively: 


The County Seat. 141 

4C l rode down on the outside of the stage to-day, 
and may have had a hint of what you mean !” 

Hugh looked into his deep, retrospective and in- 
trospective eyes, and said : 

“They’ve gripped you already, old fellow ! And 
there are chickens on every one of them. And one 
of them will ‘git yo’ shuah,’ as Aunt Mary used 
to tell us about the hobgoblins when our morality 
wasn’t up to her standard. By the way, you 
haven't told me yet — is the dear old soul still in 
the black flesh ?” 

After some reminiscences of Aunt Mary and 
Uncle Dave, and other ebony belongings and 
friends of their childhood, Emory’s mind came 
back to the matter of matrimony, of which all 
young men think more than they are willing to 
admit, of which they are apt to talk, half jocularly, 
half seriously, when they are in a tender mood, as 
who is not when he is reminiscential? He said: 

“For three years I had been knocking about 
the country in journalism. I had not been still 
long enough for thought of taking a wife to have 
time to form in my mind. And then it was too 
late. I was married to my profession !” 

Hugh grinned his long-drawn grin. 

This Emory, having looked away in his earnest- 
ness, did not notice. He continued: 

“I believe in a celibate priesthood. The pries* 


142 


How Baldy Won 

should not ‘entangle himself with the affairs of 
this world/ He should look upon his people as 
his family. His life should be lonely, so that any- 
body can confide in him, with the settled feeling 
that what is said to him will not, bv any accident, 
escape from him, even in his sleep. He should be 
ready to respond to any order from his superior — 
to any demand of the service. There should be no 
one liable to the contraction of a disease from him 
— for that one’s sake, for his own sake, and that 
he may not be tended to neglect the afflicted. He 
is vowed to poverty. So his support of a family 
must be meagre, and in case of his disabling those 
dependent upon him are left in need- — without 
the hope that they whom he may have served will 
feel any obligation to aid them !” 

Hugh’s grin was longer-drawn and his drawl 
still more pronounced in : 

“In the elegant parlance of this region, ‘Cheese 
it!’ Such fine theories may withstand the ducks 
of the effete East, but you will find them to be not 
even cobwebs to the prairie chickens of the young 
and vigorous West. But” — forgetting his drawl, 
or losing it — “I must go !” 

“What’s your hurry? It’s been a good while 
since we met, and I feel that our talk has oidy 
begun !” 

“I feel that way, too, Em ! But you know, I’m 


143 


The County Seat. 

an old soldier! Duty, and all that, that you’ve 
been talking about. I’m on watch to-night, from 
twelve to two.” 

“On watch! Where? Over what? You’re not 
in danger from the Indians, are you ?” 

“No ; but the Centrevillians ” 

“Mayn’t I stand the watch with you ?” 

“That wouldn’t be soldierly! Go to bed and 
get a good sleep ! Good night !” 

And Hugh was gone — with that energy of which 
a slow man • is capable, when he has something - 
really important in hand. 

Emory’s journalistic olfactories were excited. 
He had scented an item. 


144 


How Baldy Won 


CHAPTER XL 

WHAT SHOULD BE DONE WITH EDITOR WALKER? 

Why should he care for the item of which he 
had gotten the scent? Item-hunting had become 
a second nature to him. Then he wanted to suc- 
ceed in Breezemead, and knew that any knowledge 
with regard to it, or any individual, or set of in- 
dividuals, in it, may prove a step in the direction 
of success in a community — no matter what that 
direction may be — the same factors making to suc- 
cess in ecclesiastical affairs that do so in those of 
politics or business. He thought that such knowl- 
edge was the only thing necessary to him for suc- 
cess in his new field — that his recent experiences 
as a rector had made him wise — wise enough, at 
least, to not allow the impulses of his nature to 
run away with him — whether he was right in 
which conclusion the subsequent events of this 
history will show. 

Had Hugh gone away at not later than a quarter 


145 


The County Seat. 

of eleven o’clock, that he might get a nap before 
he entered upon his watch ? He did not look 
sleep} 7 , or fatigued. Before going he had several 
times consulted his watch, as one does when he 
has a particular engagement. What sort of an one 
would he be likely to have ? 

One of gallantry? He was still a young man. 
But in the old days he had been thought a mis- 
ogynist. Those who knew him well knew better. 
As his slow smiles and long-drawn grins would in- 
timate, he was secretive and capable of making 
misogynistic remarks for the purpose for which a 
certain fish emits an inky fluid. But he was faith- 
ful. He had passed his word to his prairie chicken, 
and he would keep it ! He was neither a roysterer 
or a gamester. So he could not have hurried away 
to a drinking bout, to the card-table any more than 
to an assignation. 

Emory knew his man. 

The item which he had scented was not that 
there was a county seat contest between Breeze- 
mead and Centreville; for Mr. Bynson and Mr. 
Xothym, and Doctor Gray and Hugh had spoken 
freely of that — it was the open and absorbing 
burden of conversation about the Adnogal House, 
on the streets, wherever, indeed, he had heard 
people express themselves — but the plan upon 
which that contest was being conducted by the 


146 How Baldy Won 

Breezemeadians — that was the thing to be found 
out. 

That there was such a plan there could be no 
doubt. Nor could there be an}’ doubt that of 
those who had formed it, and had it in hand, were 
the men whom I have mentioned — including Hugh, 
who, when they had met on the plaza had made 
no answer to Emory's question: 

“What are you doing here?” 

Upon his returning to the Adnogal House, 
Emory had remarked to the landlord upon the 
pleasure he had experienced in meeting his relative, 
upon learning whose name the landlord had said: 

“The Assistant County Clerk !” 

That was something which Emory knew Hugh 
was not apt to be; for he had always had a horror 
of sedentary life. When Emory spoke to him of 
his position, he smiled and grinned. 

He was no more than gone, when all these things 
darted through Emory’s mind. He jumped to* the 
conclusion that there was to be a meeting of the 
leaders, put on his hat and followed into the hall- 
way. He could hear feet slowly descending the 
thinly carpeted stairs. He was about to continue 
following, when the descent suddenly stopped. 
Soon began a cautious ascent. The feet were 
stepping lightly. He had closed the door after 
him, so that the light from the kerosene lamp in 


147 


The County Seat. 

Ins room — the hallway was nnlighted — might not 
reveal him, and now he could not open it without 
a click of the latch, which would sound plainly 
through all the halls and rooms of the upper story 
of the flimsily constructed building. 

As he had not lost a sound of the footsteps from 
their crossing the sill of his door, the ascender 
could be no one but Hugh. Suppose he should re- 
trace his footsteps to that point ! There were three 
other avenues open to him — the other direction in 
that hallway, -or either direction in one which 
crossed it at right angles. Which would he take ? 
Horrors ! He was coming towards where Emory 
was making himself as small as possible. What 
was he to do? He could not open the door of his 
room, for had the latch been of the best make, and 
thoroughly oiled, the light from within, it- 
will be remembered, would have betrayed 
him. There was but one thing to do — to 
keep ahead. This he did, without the slightest 
notion of where he was going, or what he was 
approaching. There were doors to his right and 
left. He was tempted to open one of them. But 
he did not know into what presence he might come, 
or what reception might await him ; and an arrest 
for burglary would not be a desirable induction 
into his new parish. So he kept in advance, tak- 
ing his chances, with a not very quiet mind. 


148 


How Baldy Won 

At the extreme end of the corridor was a large 
stove, which, in a cold snap — as Emory afterwards 
noticed — was necessary for heating purposes — not 
so much for the comfort of the guests as to save 
the crockery, by preventing the water from freez- 
ing in the narrow-mouthed pitchers with which 
the rooms were provided — that being long before 
the introduction of the reservoir system, for which 
Breezemead is, in later years, so justly celebrated. 

Behind this stove Emory popped. And just in 
time. He was barely out of sight when a door* 
within half a dozen feet of him, opened, the end 
of the hallway filled with light, and a magnifi- 
cently proportioned man stepped out. Emory 
gasped in realizing how nearly the light had 
caught him, and how little he was in advance of 
Hugh, when the latter emerged from the dark- 
ness, and said, softly: 

“Hello, Ersldne !” 

“Hello, yourself, Hugh !” was the answer, in a 
muffled, deep bass voice. “I was growing im- 
patient !” 

“Growing impatient ! Are you ever a-n-v-thing 
else. Hick ?” 

“Why the devil can’t people be on time?” 

As they entered — Emory could see well into the 
room — Hugh pulled his watch, glanced at it, and 
said : 


The County Seat 149 

“The hour agreed upon was eleven, and it’s 
now ten-fifty ! ” 

“That so ! Thought it must be midnight, any- 
way !” 

By eleven o’clock about a dozen men were as- 
sembled. They had come one at a time, and not 
less cautiously than had Hugh. Among them 
were Mr. Bynson, Mr. Nothym, Doctor Gray and 
the landlord, Mr. Gurnsey. Everybody was smok- 
ing, excepting Mr. Bynson and Mr. Gurnsey, who 
singularly enough for Western men, did not burn 
the weed. 

When the last man who was expected was come, 
and they had exchanged some pleasantries — 
which could hardly have been more picturesque. 
Hugh being addressed as “Mud”; Mr. Bynson as 
“Soap,” sometimes “Soft Soap”; Doctor Gray as 
“Fire”; Mr. Nothym as “Blue” or “Mottle”; Mr. 
Erskine as “Tub”; and Mr. Gurnsey as “Tomb- 
stones” — when the last man was come, Hugh made 
as if he would close the door. 

“Is that necessary?” asked Mr. Bynson, with a 
cough. 

With a cough also, which was not the less vio- 
lent from its being sympathetic, Mr. Gurnsey an- 
swered : 

“I have had all the rooms on this hallway left 


150 How Baldy Won 

vacant, this side the one occupied by the new 
preacher.*’ 

“He’s a good one !” said Dick. “Besides what 
was said about him in The Hawk , he was the 
subject of a conversation between me and the 
King. Too bad he’s a preacher ! He’d be a 
valuable recruit !” 

“Don’t worry about his being a preacher, Tub !” 
said Hugh. “You bet your boots that if we get 
in a tight place and send for him, he’ll come, if he 
thinks we’re n-o-t i-n the w-r-o-n-g of it ! I know 
his history and his blood !” 

“Good for you, Mud !” laughed Dick. “Some 
relation of yours, isn’t he?” 

In his most pronounced drawl, with his longest 
grin, and with a certain remoteness of tone, Hugh 
replied : 

“I am delighted that I am able to say that his 
mother and mine are sisters!” 

“Oh, come off your perch, Mud !” was Dick’s 
response. “Don’t be chilly ! I’ve been intending 
to ask you to present me to his reverence. I tell 
you there’s stuff in the man, preacher or sinner, 
who can call the turn on Blink-Eyed Tom of the 
Cowskin !” 

“All right !” said Hugh. 

And the business began. 

During its transaction Emory found his situa- 


The County Seat. 15 1 

tion unpleasant in more regards than one. In the 
first place, his position was cramped. He did not 
dare to move. His feet were soon going to sleep. 
That could not be helped. More than one man 
in the room into which he could see was accus- 
tomed to Indian warfare. Their ears were trained 
to catch the slightest sound. He was not a 
physical coward, but for purely physical reasons 
he would have disliked to have them catch him 
there. But the physical phase of the matter was 
not the one which gave him either the most pain 
or the most anxiety. What would Hugh think 
of the finding of one of his blood — one to whom 
he had just confessed relationship — eaves- 
dropping? But there was no escape. The door 
of the room in which the Vigilantes were being 
open, he could not make a break and go down the 
hallway. His shoulders were against the sill of a 
window, but as a movement to keep his feet awake 
would attract attention, it would not do to open 
and jump from a window. All that he could do 
was to grind his material and moral teeth, and 
wait for the meeting to adjourn. 

What he heard and saw revealed much of hu- 
man nature. In those days it was said that in 
making his way westward a man left God at the 
Mississippi. There was then, beyond that river, 
no hypocrisy — unless it was of the reverse sort — 


152 How Baldy Won 

if there is ever the need anywhere, to say noth- 
ing of the possibility, of a human being’s pretend- 
ing to be worse than he is. The ones upon whom 
Emory looked from his enforced hiding were not 
even persons — in the proper sense of that word. 
Their masques were off. They were appearing in 
their naked individualities. Not one of them was 
making the slightest attempt to conceal from him- 
self, or anybody else, what he was. Each of them 
saw the others hideous. But he would never think 
of saying anything abm.it it outside. When there 
is no disguise between individuals, each of them 
is safe from the revelations of the other — unless 
the other be the devil himself. If there be any 
class of men worse than thieves, there is also 
“honor” among its members — especially, to say 
nothing of the fear that revelations may be met 
by revelations, in a condition of society where 
tattling would mean that the tattler would never 
tattle again. 

Emory’s position was so cramped, painful and 
dangerous that he would have found it not easy 
to give his whole attention to acquiring the 
verb of an unknown language, apprehending a 
philosophical proposition, or solving a mathe- 
matical problem, but he could not help learning 
from what the Vigilantes said that Centreville had 
been worsted in the contest for the capital of the 


i55 


The County Seat. 

county by the lavish use of money, of which 
Breezemead had the more; that Breezemead had 
thought that she would prevent its reopening by * 
heavily mortgaging the county for the building of 
the court house; and that it would have remained 
quiescent had it not been for the appearance of a 
new factor in the case — a personal factor — of the 
plain name of Walker, a journalist, who had 
lately bought The Butternut City Whopper — a 
paper which had very much run down — which he 
scon ran up to a commanding influence in the 
southern part of the county. A line run east and 
■west through the middle of the county would pass 
through both Breezemead and Centreville. North 
of that line the majority were Breezemeadians, in 
relation to the location of the county seat, because 
of the size and wealth of Breezemead, in which 
regard, they held, no other town in the county 
could ever hope to overtake her ; while south, they 
were Centrevillians, pretendedly, or really, on 
geographical grounds. Butternut City was in the 
extreme southwest corner of the county. She was 
some miles nearer to Breezemead than to Centre- 
ville. But she had no reason to be jealous of 
Centreville. Mr. Walker was a man of prompt- 
ness, courage, brains, and of not too much prin- 
ciple to make a good journalist. Before tak- 
ing hold of The Whopper he had mastered the 


154 


How Baldy Won 

facts of the situation. His attacks on Breeze- 
mead, Breezemead methods and Breezemeadians 
were more than pointed. He never struck, he 
always thrust, and never failed to drive his dagger 
home, and to the hilt. There was no leading man 
in Breezemead whose quick he had not touched, 
whose blood he had not drawn. 

When his name was mentioned in the meeting 
of which Emory was so accidentally and so pain- 
fully a witness and auditor, the curses were deep, 
bitter and malicious — though uttered in tones and 
accompanied by expressions of admiration. Ho 
good person would read further in this history did 
I give even a hint of them. Fortunately this is 
not necessary to the conveyance of what Emory 
learned of what this man Walker had accom- 
plished in the interest of Centreville, and so to 
the detriment of Breezemead. He could not have 
had much money, personally, or at his command, 
but he had induced the State Senator and the Bep- 
resentatives from Crowley County, and through 
them the Legislature in both branches, to see it to 
be to their own interests, and to pretend to see it 
to be to the interest of the county, that there 
should be a resubmission of the question of the 
location of its seat of government. He had made 
the southern portion of the county solid for Cen- 
treville — so solid that the Vigilantes saw that it 


155 


The County Seat. 

would take three times as much money as it had 
taken before to break that solidity. He had man- 
aged to reduce the Breezemeadian majority in the 
northern portion of the county — to so reduce it 
that they were anxious. 

“We must get rid of that man !” said Mr* Byn- 
son. 

“How?” was the question from several mouths, 
and on all faces. , 

Mr. Gurnsey smiled till his dead-white, ceme- 
tery-suggesting, false teeth stood out in almost in- 
dependence of his lips, and said: 

“We can’t wait till the revival of religion season 
is here, can we ?” 

“What's religion got to do with it ?” asked Mr. 
Erskine. 

“You know I’m a Methodist,” replied Mr. Gurn- 
sey, “and it has struck me that we might get 
Walker to a revival and have him overcome by the 
powers !” 

Everybody laughed at this, save Erskine. He 
said, with striking verbal accompaniment: 

“Let up on that ! I’m no saint” — a statement 
which no one seemed disposed to dispute — “but — 
I’d say it more freely if Tombstones weren’t of 
that faith — my mother’s a Methodist, and — well, 
religion must be counted out o’ this deal !” 

“I only made a suggestion,” said Mr. Gurnsey. 


How Baldv Won 


156 

“It mightn’t work. The revival season’s too far 
off anyway. But Mr. Erskine has jumped to a con- 
clusion. There are powers in bottles as well as 
those which hover about the mourner’s bench !” 

“Oh !” rumbled in Dick’s mighty chest. 

“Who can mention a better plan?” Mr. Gurn- 
;sey wanted to know. 

Doctor Gray thought that someone might lose 
a horse and have Walker accused of stealing it. 

“That would involve his hanging!” said Hugh. 

The Doctor showed his merlons, in snickering 
cruelly away back in his post-nasal cavity. 

“I’ve met the fellow,” Hugh continued. “He’s 
a gentleman. I like him. Then I don’t w-a-nt 
blood on my conscience — uselessly !” 

“Make a suggestion, then, Mud !” said Dick with 
a sneer, which seemed to be more than half 
put on, adding: “I’d be in for gettin’ him into 
a shindy and doin’ him up !” 

“Wh-y mightn’t w-e kidn-a-p him?” drawled 
Hugh. 

“To that end a bottle of powers from Tomb- 
stones’ bar might come in handy!” laughed 
Erskine. 

“Wisdom may ascend from the grave!” was 
Hugh’s comment upon this. 

Paying no attention to the persiflage, Mr. Byn- » 


The County Seat. 157 

son said — the somebody within pulling vigorously 
at the string: 

“A good suggestion, Mr. Charles ! Who'll under- 
take the job?” 

“I know some fellows who’d do it well !” said 
Dick. 

“Will you become responsible to us for its ac- 
complishment ?” asked Mr. Bynson. 

“If Mud’ll join me!” 

Hugh nodded consent, then, consulting his 
watch, said : 

“Time’s up ! I m-u-st be go-ing !” 

After some talk about what was necessary to the 
efficiency of a guard at the courthouse, the number 
of men who were ready at signal to protect the 
archives, and what movement the Centre- 
villians were apt to make next, the meeting ad- 
journed. 

When all was quiet, Emory crawled from his 
hiding, stumped to his room as if his legs were 
wooden, blew out his light, undressed in the dark, 
tumbled into bed, fell asleep rubbing his tingling 
knees, and did not awaken till ten o’clock the next 
morning. 


158 


How Baldy Won 


CHAPTER XII. 

A CONCERT. 

His late breakfast over, question rose in Emory’s 
mind as to the church in which he was to serve. 
Mr. Bynson had spoken of it, but said that the 
calls that they were about to make would not take 
them in its direction. 

Emory’s desire to see it was as natural as would 
be a merchant’s to see the storeroom in which he 
was to do business, the teacher’s to see the school- 
house in which he was to instruct, the blacksmith’s 
to see the shop in which he was to pound iron and 
shoe horses. 

When he had lighted his cigar, he went to the 
office desk and asked : 

“Will you be kind enough to direct me to St. 
John’s Church?” 

“The Episcopal Church?” asked Mr. Gurnsey, 
who at that hour was his own clerk — with an air 
that he would rather answer another question — • 


159 


The County Seat. 

one for instance as to the whereabouts of the 
Methodist Church — but with perfect politeness. 

“Yes.” 

In making change for a departing guest, Mr. 
Gurnsey replied, somewhat absently: 

“On the corner this way of the Court-House 
Square.” 

Emory moved away, thinking: 

“I have been at the Court House, and I reached 
it by passing into the plaza at the corner this way, 
but 1 do not remember seeing a church there. But 
it may be that the churches are as different here 
from what they are elsewhere as are the Chris- 
tians !” 

In his effort to recollect anything like a church 
at the point indicated, he paused cfi the veranda. 
Seeing him there, and thinking that he had possi- 
bly not been effusive enough for a landlord, in giv- 
ing directions, Mr. Gurnsey, there being a mo- 
ment's leisure to him, came out, and, with much 
bowing, gesticulation and showing of tombstones, 
gave minute information as to how the church in 
mind was to be reached, by going so many blocks 
south, to a store with a striped awning, turning 
east at that point, going so many blocks east, 
and 

“Excuse me !” 

This exclamation was from Emory. He had 


160 How Baldy Won 

knocked the ashes from his cigar, and they had 
blown in Mr. Gurnsey’s face, causing him to change 
his pen from one hand to the other, and knuckle 
his right eye energetically. 

Mr. Gurnsey did not swear. He w r as too good a 
Christian for that. He asked — which may have 
been his way of swearing: 

“Do you think it right to smoke ?” 

“If it doesn’t hurt you!” 

“Do you think it right for a minister of the 
gospel to smoke?” 

“Why should it be wrong for him if it is not 
wrong for anybody else ?” 

“I think it wouldn’t be right for to smoke !” 

“Why not ?” % 

“I’m a church member, and it seems to me that 
I ought to be careful as to the example I set — 
especially to the young — and particularly in this 
country, where everybody is so godless!” 

“Even to the point o i confounding the powers 
of the mourner’s bench with those which a bottle 
may contain !” 

Mr. Gurnsey looked quickly at Emory, gave 
again the directions, with less elaboration* turned 
abruptly, and went back into the office. 

Emory’s w r ay led him by the Crowley County 
Bank. He stepped in. He was shown to the presi- 
dent’s room. There sat Mr Hynson. There was 


The County Seat. 161 

a worn, weary look in his face. This was only 
caught, though, at the sudden opening of the 
door, of which, as the approach to it was heavily 
carpeted, and as.it opened noiselessly, he had had 
no warning. When lie looked up and saw Emory, 
the somebody pulled the string at once, and the 
indescribable smile appeared. Emory smiled, not 
in return to this smile, but at a thought which 
popped into his head — that could a spider, lying 
in wait in its den, smile, it would smile just that 
sort of a smile. 

Mr. Bynson arose, gave Emory his hand, and 
said : 

“I hope you slept well last night l” 

“Very — after I got to sleep. I did not waken 
till rather late this morning. I was fatigued from 
my trip. Stage-riding is not a daily experience 
with me. Being out in the wind all day had a 
soporific effect. Then I was somewhat excited at 
Whackston the night before and did not get much 
rest/ 5 

At this Mr. Bynson smiled appreciatively — -al- 
most independently of the string-puller — and said: 

“You are stopping at the Adnogal House, I re- 
member. You went to bed early, I presume, be- 
ing so fatigued !” 

“Xot very. I had a caller till nearly eleven, 
o’clock. He gone, to my surprise, there were not 


162 


How Baldy Won 

the noises which an Eastern man would expect to 
hear in a Western town towards midnight, espe- 
cially about an hotel. There must have been, how- 
ever, a meeting of some sort — of a club, a caucus, 
or a committee — of a dozen men or so — in a room 
down the hallway in which mine is situated.” 

The somebody within forgot all about the string. 
Mr. By n son's face was set, questioningly. Emory 
added, with a careless smile and action: 

“But to what is not my business I never pay 
attention !” 

“That is the safer way !” said Mr. Bynson. 

Then Emory: 

“Fm on my way to see the church.” 

“You'll want to go inside, I presume,” said Mr. 
Bynson, the somebody within again vigorously 
at work with the string. “I have a key somewhere. 
The Bishop informed me, .when I was elected 
senior warden, that it was mv duty to have a key 
to the church. T got one. Where is it?”— opening 
a drawer. “Ah, here!” 

Emory took the key, and was gone. 

The church was a little, oblong structure, “Not 
much larger,” said Emory to himself, in stand- 
ing before it, “than the outbuilding at home in 
which Uncle Dave so neatly stores the supply of 
wood and bituminous coal for the winter!” 

It must have made some impression on him, the 


The County Seat. 163 

day before ; for it did not seem entirely strange. 
Excepting a rude trefoil in the gable towards the 
street, he saw no hint on it. or about it, that it was 
a church, and that he would not have noticed had 
he not been looking for some ecclesiastical sign. 
The window frames were mullioned on the eight- 
by-ten inch plan, and filled with unstained glass, of 
a poor quality, wrinkled and smoke-stained. There 
was nothing hopeful in the appearance of the 
building. Emory felt as he imagined he would 
have felt had he been a military officer who was 
told to take possession of a fort on the border of 
the enemy’s country, to hold it, to make sallies 
from it, and found it to be nothing more than a 
paling fence. But when he had unlocked the door 
he felt better. There was evidently some church- 
manship among the people. Though wooden, the 
altar was, in comparison with the church, a fine 
one. The color of its hangings was that of the 
season. It stood in a sanctuary, railed from the 
chancel. There was no pulpit — which Emory was 
pleased to notice; for. a pulpit in so small a 
church would have impressed one very much as 
would a plug-hat on a six-year-old boy. But there 
was a brass eagle lectern — memorial. This was 
gratifying. Somebody had associated the church 
with his — or, more probably, her — dead. Others 
would put in memorials. The church would come 


164 How Baldy Won 

to be a sacred place to more and more folK. They 
would look upon it as their spiritual home, as the 
place of their communion with those of the Un- 
seen. There were hints about of the activity of 
this feeling already. The church was neatly car- 
peted. The walls were not frescoed, but they were 
washed in a delicate coffee-and-cream. This mod- 
est little interior in a frontier town, awakened the 
reverential and tender in him more fully than had 
many a vast and pretentious interior. With bowed 
head, he passed through the chancel entered the 
sanctuary, and knelt at the altar. 

When he had come out of the church and 
stood with his back to the street, locking the 
door — wondering how he might manage that it 
might never be locked — someone said to him. in a 
drawl which could not be mistaken: 

“Thought you be-longed there o-n Sunday !” 

Emory glanced over his shoulder, saw Hugh 
Charles and Dick Erskine, and replied: 

“Like to know something about my parapets 
before I let off my guns!” 

With the manner, and in the accents of a gen- 
tleman, Mr. Erskine said: 

‘Want to know whether thev will withstand 
the recoil !” 

With his slow smile, long-drawn grin, and 


The County Seat. 165 

drawl, Hugh made Dick and Emory acquainted. 
This formality through, Emory said: 

“Seems to me, Hugh, that you’re getting around 
rather late for an assistant.” 

Hugh replied: “A fellow doesn’t feel like turn- 
ing out very early when he’s not gotten to bed 
before half past two in the morning.” 

“You had plenty of time for a nap between leav- 
ing me last night and midnight,” said Emory. 

This caused Dick to glance at Hugh, who 
drawled : 

“I told him that I had to go on watch at mid- 
night.” 

Dick looked a little glum at this, but made no 
comment. 

Emory said: “I wonder that anybody gets up 
at all in this country; there is a quality in the 
air which acts like opium.” 

“That’s a sign that you’re a tenderfoot !” 
laughed Hugh. 

“Yes,” said Dick, “the air here affects all new- 
comers in that way. For the first six weeks I 
couldn’t get enough sleep. I would almost fall 
off over my han — from my feet, I mean.” 

At this break Hugh laughed a high internal 
laugh. Emory could not repress a smile, and 
Dick guffawed, saying: 

“But a man who could treat such a rough a& 


1 66 How Baldy Won 

Blink-Eyed Tom as yon did must know some- 
thing of the world.” 

To this Emory made no reply, but returning 
to the subject of sleeping, said: 

“I was rather unfortunate last night in get- 
ting no sleep before midnight.” 

“What was the matter?” asked Hugh, with a 
suspicious glance. 

“Everybody on my floor seemed to be talking 
in his sleep ! There were at least a dozen talk- 
ing. And the singular thing was that they seemed 
to be in some sort of a debate. Had the voices 
not been tenor, baritone and bass I would have 
thought there was a Woman’s Rights Conven- 
tion in progress. As it was, the only thing that 
prevented me from thinking it a Methodist Con- 
ference was the character of the language used.” 

Dick and Hugh exchanged glances. Emory ex- 
cused himself, and started as if he would go to 
the Adnogal House. Before he reached there he 
turned off. He was trained to remark everything. 
When he had called with Mr. Bynson on Doctor 
Gray, he had noted his office hours. Looking at 
his watch, he saw that he was within them. He 
went directly to the Doctors office. The Doctor 
was glad to see him. He said: 

“Doctor, I have come for advice. I am not 
sleeping the early part of the night. Till about 


The County Seat. 167 

midnight, though awake, I hear voices which are 
not angelic voices. One will speak of having 
somebody get religion without a deep desire that 
he should have its consolations. Another will 
speak of saddling on him the theft of a horse, 
which has not been stolen, but which has been 
taken away with a purpose. Another will suggest 
fastening a quarrel upon him and ‘doing him up/ 
To these schemes one will have grace enough to 
object. Then it will be decided to kidnap him. 
My nerves are in such a condition that I may do 
something. Can’t you help me?” 

The Doctor turned a shade redder, if that was 
possible, showed all his merlons, and said, with 
that post-nasal snicker of his: 

“I would suggest a change of climate.” 

“That would be hardly possible. I have not 
been here long enough to know that the climate 
does not agree with me. Then I am here to take 
charge of St. John’s Church. I have just been 
in that church, and in praying at its altar have 
come to definite conclusions in relation to a mat- 
ter which has been on my mind heavily ever since 
I awoke this morning. If you think I need no 
medicine, I'll take no more of your time !” 

The Doctor’s face was a shade less red, and 
there was a serious look in his face as his caller 
took his departure. 


i68 


How Baldy Won 

From there Emory went to Mr. Nothym’s hard- 
ware store, found that gentleman in, and sur- 
prised him by saying : 

“I would like to look at your revolvers.” 

“You mean bibles, I guess !” said Mr. Nothym. 
“You’re in the wrong store !” 

In saying this his eyes twinkled, and his one- 
sided goatee seemed more one-sided than ever, 
as he smiled idiosyncratically — his lips receding, 
his chin protruding and rising. 

“No,” said Emory, in the same spirit, which 
drew him and Mr. Nothym more closely together. 
“I have an indistinct impression that I know what 
I want !” 

Mr. Nothym went to a case and handed out a 
revolver. 

“Haven’t you a better one than that?” asked 
Emory. 

This awakened the commercial spirit in Mr. 
Nothym, and he produced something really fine, 
saying : 

“What do you know about a gun, anyway?” 

“I know, at least, which end of a revolver to 
take hold of!” was the answer, which caused Mr. 
Nothym to throw back his head with laughter, for 
he had hold of the barrel, to, it was discovered, the 
dinging somewhat of its polish. 

Emory took the revolver off the glass case, where 


The County Seat. 169 

Mr. Hothym laid it, moved it about in his hand, 
and said: 

“It's a good one, but I don’t like its balance ex- 
actly !” 

“Can you shoot?” 

“A little. Have you anywhere to try ?” 

Mr. Nothym led the way into the back yard. 
There, at one side, he had fitted up a shooting 
gallery. He was one of the best shots of the 
county. He would have been a dangerous man 
had his nerves been naturally strong under ex- 
citement. 

This gallery was furnished with the best of 
arms. From a number of revolvers Emory 
selected one which suited him, charged it, and, as 
rapidly as it could be discharged, put six balls in a 
bull’s eye, fifty feet away. Then Mr. Nothym 
darkened the gallery and placed a lighted candle 
at its extreme end. Emory snuffed it. 

“Come outside !” said Mr. Nothym. 

In the bright sunlight he threw a silver quarter 
in the air. Emory doubled it as it fell. A cat was 
walking gingerly along the top of the fence at 
the rear of the yard. 

“Can you kill that cat ?” asked Mr. hTothym. 

“Yes ; but I won’t.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I think it has as good a right to live 


170 How Baldy Won 

as I have! But Fll make it shake its head and 
jump off the fence, if you say so/ 5 

“All right !” 

Mr. Nothym bent over, put his hands on his 
knees, shut his lips so tightly that his goatee stood 
obliquely out, and said: 

“Now !” 

Emory did as he had promised. 

They stepped back into the gallery. Mr* 
Nothym asked: 

“Do you really want a revolver ?” 

“Why, of course I do, or I wouldn't have asked 
for one !” 

“Take the one with which you’ve done the neat- 
est bit of all-round shooting I’ve seen for many 
a day!” 

Emory looked at the revolver, fondling it, and 
said : 

“Can’t !” 

“Why?” 

“It’s worth too much !” 

“Won’t cost you a cent !” 

“But ” 

“No buts!” 

So the Beverend Mr. Emberson came into 
possession of the revolver which he has, and shows 
with great pride, to this day. 


The County Seat. 171 

“But for what in the world do you w T ant a re- 
volver?” asked Mr. Nothym. 

“Well,” answered Emory, with a laugh, “this is 
a country in which shooting seems to be common. 
It may be necessary for me to take a hand sooner 
or later. I want to be ready should that time ever 
come. It may come sooner than is expected. I 
was greatly troubled by a committee-meeting last 
night. I may want to try to prevent a great wrong 
being done to someone. The Committee may think 
that I have no right to interfere. I may have to de- 
fend, or attempt to enforce that right.” 

Mr. Nothym’s lips first opened in astonishment, 
then pursed questioningly, then closed tightly — 
going in till his goatee stood obliquely, not out, but 
up. He said: 

“It seems to me that the preacher should at- 
tend to the gospel !” 

“That is what I propose to do, the best I can !” 
said Emory, smilingly, “to enforce its principles, if 
necessary !” and went away, carrying the splendid 
gift which he had received in his pocket 

Though autumn was come and the nights were 
cool, the days at this latitude were warm — pleas- 
antly so. The air was fresh, moving too con- 
stantly to become impure. Whatever may be said 
of the summers of the Southwest, or of the 
springs or the winters, the autumns are divinely 


i*]2 How Baldy Won 

delightful — the chief climatic attractiveness of the 
region being that they encroach deeply into the 
winter, the days being frequently so fine till late 
in January that one wonders whether he deserves 
them, feeling quite certain that the rest of hu- 
manity does not. This was the first day upon 
which Emory had been localized on the Southwest, 
and he was enjoying the after part of it to the 
full, sitting on the veranda of the Adnogal House, 
smoking, when Hugh came, a serious look on his 
face. Said Emory, laughing: 

“What’s the matter, old man? You look as if 
you might have buried the last of your relatives ?” 

The slow smile started on Hugh’s lips, but it 
died “in the borning.” He said: 

“What trou-bl-es me is that I may have to bury 
the only relative I have in the Southwest !” 

This was truly American, thoroughly Western, 
humorous in spite of its ghastliness. There was 
pathos in the tone in which Hugh added : 

“Say, Em, you weren’t guilty of eavesdropping, 
were you ?” 

Emory’s lips shut so hard that it was with dif- 
ficulty that he opened them to say : 

“Hugh, I would resent that question from even 
you did I not feel that you have the right to 
ask it !” 

Then he related what had transpired after Hugh 
left him, the night before, adding : 


The County Seat. 173 

^That Vigilance Committee of yours is com- 
posed of a lot of cowards !” 

“You’re wr-ong there !” drawled Hugh, judicial- 
ly. “The-re isn’t one o-f th-em who isn’t a man 
of approved courage, sa-ving possibly Mr. Yothym, 
and he’d stand to be killed, even though he might 
be too nervous to de-f-end himself. He is the only 
coward I have ever known to have the respect of 
brave men ! This comes of the fact, no doubt, 
that his nerves are constitutionally weak.” 

“Would any man not a coward make such a 
proposition as was made by Doctor Gray or 
Erskine with regard to that man Walker? The 
one made by the landlord was worse; for the doper 
would be a killer were he not afraid. But Gurnsey 
doesn’t seem — in spite of the tombstones with 
which his mouth is filled — to be as bloodthirsty as 
either the Doctor or Erskine. They are common 
murderers in their hearts, whatever they may be 
in their histories.” 

“I know both of them thoroughly,” said Hugh. 
“I have seen them tried more than once. They are 
brave, true to their friends, and generous, but red 
Indians in their cruelty and treachery to their 
enemies. And you must take into the account that 
they have such men as themselves to deal with — 
men who are products of border conditions — the 


i74 


How Baldy Won 

opposite of the conditions out of which a saint — 
such an one, for instance, as I am — comes.” 

That there was hope for Emory in the light 
thrown on things by his relation of the circum- 
stances which led to his hearing the councils of the 
Vigilantes, in Hugh’s thought, was evident from 
the spontaneity of the smile — if anything so slow 
may be spoken of as spontaneous — with which he 
referred to himself as a saint. As he rose to go, he 
asked : 

“What are you going to do to-night?” 

“Going to the concert.” 

“That’s so ! I’d forgotten all about that ! I’ll 
come round and go with you !” 

This concert was one that was to be given for 
the benefit of St. John’s Church, at the court 
house — in the room where the court sat in term, 
where, between terms, political and other meet- 
ings were held, “barn-stormers” appeared, 'the 
phrenological lecturer touched the bumps which 
he hoped might prove buttons electrically attached 
to the opening of purses, during the week, and 
where,, on Sundays, morning, afternoon and even- 
ing, took place the services of various denomina- 
tions of Christians. A number of persons — among 
them Mr. Bvnson — had spoken to Emory of the 
proposed entertainment, asked him to be present — 
saying that it occurred fortunately, as it would 


175 


The County Seat. 

give him a good opportunity to meet his parish- 
ioners and others. It was expected that he would 
“make a few remarks/’ This he did at the open- 
ing, to the extent of saying that the audience was 
assembled to hear — not a speech, but music. 
“After which remark,” he said, “it would not do 
for me to go on. lest you think that I think that 
I can make a musical speech !” — at which not re- 
markably brilliant mot there was a general smile, 
and a ripple of applause. 

There is no need that I describe the concert. 

Emory did not pay much attention to its num- 
bers till — there was no printed programme — a solo 
by a Miss Avaway was announced. He did not pay 
much attention then till Miss Avaway stepped on 
the platform. Then he was all attention ! This 
Hugh noticed, leaned over, and whispered in his 
ear: 

“Chicken !” 

This Emory did not notice. He was absorbed 
by, not the song, but the singer. But the song 
and the singer were one to him. Miss Avaway 
was modesty itself. Pretty? She had an abun- 
dance of light-brown hair, parted a little to one 
side and brushed plainly over her temples. He 
discovered afterwards that her gray eyes had a 
hint of a cross, and that her diminutive nose was 


176 


How Baldy Won 

not exactly straight on her face. What did she 
sing? He did not know. How did she sing? He 
had no idea. Her voice was remarkably sweet, and 
it was herself. Was she recalled? His hands 
were sore for a week afterwards. 

After the concert he was introduced to her. Her 
hand did not melt in his; he melted all around 
her hand. Had he not torn himself away from 
that court house he would have made a fool of 
himself ! 

Had he slept that night he would have dreamed 
of Miss Avaway, of course. But he did not sleep. 
Why? 


The County Seat. 


177 


CHAPTER XIII. 

A CONCLUSION REACHED. 

The concert had at least the virtue of not being 
too long. It was over by eleven o’clock. Half an 
hour later Hugh and Emory were in the latter s 
room. He produced the cigars. Hugh took one, 
lighted it, and crossed his legs comfortably, as if 
he were settling for a good smoke and chat. But 
Emory had no more than lighted his, thrown him- 
self on his bed, on the broad of his back, the 
doubled bolster and both pillows under his head — 
which was his favorite position when smoking, 
chatting, “lazing it,” as he was fond of expressing 
it — when Hugh moved, with a motion hurried for 
him, and said — reaching for his hat as if some- 
thing had slipped his mind till that moment : 

“By the way, Em, I can’t stop ! I have an en- 
gagement !” 

“Is it a meeting of the Committee, or of a com- 
mittee of the Committee?” asked Emory. 


i ;8 


How Baldy Won 

Hugh did not smile, grin, or drawl in reply. 
i There w r as a serious look in his face. 

“I understand,” said Emory. “The Committee, 
or its committee, is to sit on my case !” 

Still Hugh made no reply. He simply went 
away. 

He gone, Emory thought over the situation. 

“Haven’t been in this blessed town thirty-six 
hours ! And Fve gotten myself in a pretty pickle ! 
That confounded Committee — or a committee rep- 
resenting it — is about to go into session, and the 
interesting theme of its deliberations will be what 
disposition to make of me. I don’t know this to 
be true, but I’d wager my neck that it is ! That is, 
if my neck’s worth anything. And it wouldn’t be 
worth much were I not willing to risk it in the in- 
terest of the right. But is it worth much in the 
line of- my first thought concerning it? These 
Vigilantes may warn me to leave the county and 
give me very little time in which to do it. In that 
case I might make for Butternut City, and warn 
Editor Walker of the danger threatening him. 
Might I ? It would be seen to that I did not do 
that. If it is decided that I shall go, I’ll prob- 
ably be sent away under a guard, or when the 
decision is sent to me tried men will be posted to 
watch all the ways by which Butternut City may 
be reached. Suppose I refuse to go — then what? 


179 


The County Seat 

A rope, and one of those ugly butternut trees in the 
river bottom ! Would they treat a clergyman so ? 
They care as little for a clergyman as they do for 
any other man. And I do not care to be considered 
a clergyman by anybod} r , if that involves my being 
considered less than a man ! Still I am not dis- 
gusted with life ; and I couldn’t help entering upon 
the attempt to save this man Walker; and I can’t 
allow these men to drive me away from where I 
have as good a right to be as they, and what’s a 
clergyman for anyway but to bear the burdens of 
others — to die for them if necessary — to stand for 
the right the more firmly the more there are stand- 
ing for the wrong ? And will not God take care of 
me? No doubt. But only on the condition that I 
do what I can to take care of myself. And what 
can I do ? The Vigilance Committee is a represen- 
tative body. In whatever it resolves to do it will 
be backed by the whole community, I am alone. 
But, trusting in God, I shall do my best in self- 
defense, should there be need. And there is a tre- 
mendous power in one determined man — especially 
when he is armed and knows how to handle his 
weapon, and feels that he is right, and has a clear, 
quick eye and a steady nerve. It helps him for 
those who stand against him, or who come upon 
him, to know that his weapon is good, and that it 
is pretty nearly as much a part of him as is the 


180 How Baldy Won 

hand with which he holds it. Mr. Hothym can 
give his fellows some information which I am not 
indisposed to have them possess/’ 

At this — having turned down his lamp, the par- 
titions being so flimsy that he did not know where 
a crack or a hole might present itself to a prying 
eye — he fell upon his knees for a moment, 
rose and threw himself on the bed, revolver at 
hand. Then came the ordeal of waiting — that try- 
ing ordeal — especially to one of Emory's tempera- 
ment. He enjoyed action — even dangerous action. 
He could face almost any certainty, with a fraction 
of a chance on his side. Uncertainty, with even a 
whole chance in his favor, was much more terrible. 
More than once before certainty came that night 
he grasped his revolver, and half rose to go down 
the hallway to where he felt convinced his destiny, 
if not his life, was in the balance — to the room 
where he had seen the Vigilantes in session the 
night before — and know the worst. But he always 
thought better of it, and lay down. At such mo- 
ments an angel which seemed to hover about him 
would come very near. He would feel a touch, 
which would cause a sweet glow of patience to pass 
through his whole being. I have been non-com- 
mittal as to the sex of this angel ; but it must have 
been a female; for it had the face, the speaking 
eyes, and the glossy hair of Miss Avaway. 


The County Seat. 181 

When she had quieted him a number of times 
he forgot all about his dangers, his uncertainties. 
His mind was engaged with her — which, of course, 
settles the identity of the angel. He tried to re- 
member the color of her eyes. He could not. To 
recall her voice. He could not. Her figure, her 
face. He could’ not. He could hardly remember 
whether she was tall or short. He had an impres- 
sion that she was neither a blonde or a brunette. 
He could not recall any one particular of her ap- 
pearance distinctly^ save her shining light-brown 
hair. It was evidently not the physical Miss 
Avaway who had impressed him. There awakened 
in his mind the question : 

“Did I impress her as she did me ?” 

The philosophical answer came: 

“There is the law of correlation. There cannot 
be a this without a that. One having a spontane- 
ous friendship for another is indicative that that 
other has a spontaneous friendship for him. And 
friendship is a sort of love. And what is true of a 
sort of anything — must not that be more plainly 
true of the thing itself in its purity? My souFs 
rushing out to Miss Avaway is pretty good evi- 
dence that, at least, the face of her soul did not 
turn away from it !” 

I make haste to say that this conclusion was no 
more than reached when he struck himself vio- 


182 


How Baldy Won 

lently on the side of his head with a clenched 
hand, and a “Psha V 9 and I say it with pleasure, 
for in the action and the exclamation there was » 
revelation that he was not a prig. Then he 
thought : 

“Out with philosophy ! The probabilities are 
that she was simply in a state of exaltation from 
the song she had sung ! What a fool I am to think 
for a moment that any condition of my soul could 
have any influence on her l" 

This revulsion of feeling caused him to realize 
again the uncertainty of his situation in the regard 
of the Vigilantes. Again he was impatient. Again 
he half rose and grasped his revolver. But again 
he felt the touch of the angel. Then Miss Avaway 
filled his mind completely. His imagination be- 
gan to work actively. He saw castle after castle in 
the air — each of them more sumptuous than the 
one preceding. And each of them had a mistress 
with soft, light-brown, glossy hair — brushed 
smoothly over her temples. 

The reader may say : 

“There ! Such dreams to an ordinary mortal in 
such circumstances as those in which you have 
placed your hero would be impossible l" 

I would answer: 

“You speak as if this were not an authentic 
history. The idea of my having placed my hero 


The County Seat. 183 

in these or in any other set of circumstances ! That 
you may receive the full benefit of what I am writ- 
ing, you must remember that he was placed in 
these circumstances by previous circumstances — • 
those, for instance, which preceded and accom- 
panied his birth. He was not an ordinary mortal. 
The ministry was not simply a profession, or — 
which would have been infinitely worse — a busi- 
ness to him; he held sensitively that a minister 
should be a man — a man among men; he was 
naturally chivalrous — belonging to the day of 
knighthood rather than to this commercial age — 
one “born out of due season”; he had a conscience; 
in the cause of righteousness he would rather suffer 
himself than see anyone else suffer — from a bird 
to a Bishop, from an eel to an editor — suffer 
wrongly. I admit that he does not belong to this 
age. I am giving a fraction of his history for 
the benefit of the age in which he lives by accident 
— if there be such a thing as an accident — as, by 
accident, that imperial songster, the mocking-bird, 
now and then gets too far north for a summer, to 
be nipped, and have its song frozen by the early 
frosts. 

But even an authentic history cannot give full 
information on every detail. How long the castle- 
building lasted I do not know. At length it was 
interrupted by the treading of the feet of two men 


184 How Baldy Won 

in the hallway — which, in the stillness of the 
night, made the poorly-constructed hotel creak in 
all its boards, timbers and joints — and a startling 
knock at the door of his room. 

He said: “All right! Just a moment!” — rose 
deliberately, and, standing close to the bed, the 
head of which was against the wall through which 
the door opened, a corner say a foot and a half 
from its cheek, asked: 

“Who’s there?” 

“I !” responded a deep voice., which Emory 
recognized. 

“Who are you ?” 

“Open at once !” 

“By what right do you make the demand?” 

“Open the door, or we’ll show you !” 

“Make the slightest attempt in that direction 
and you are dead men as surely as there is a God 
on the other side of the Mississippi !” 

This Emory said with the side of his leg against 
the bed, leaning over, so that his head and body 
would not be in line, knowing that the reply might 
come in the shape of a ball from a revolver, to 
which the thin door would offer but a slight re- 
sistance. 

But the ball did not come. There was a whis- 
pered consultation between the men in the hall- 


The County Seat. 185 

way — after which was said, in the same voice 
which had spoken : 

“Open up ! We don’t want to hurt you !” 

“And I don't propose that you shall !” said 
Emory, suddenly jerking the door open. This 
action took the men in the hallway, in which there 
was a dim light, entirely by surprise. 

“Stand as you are !” commanded Emory. “I’ll 
shoot the one of you who moves before I tell 
him to.” 

No man knows so quickly as the Western man 
when the other has “the drop on him.” 

Emory was not surprised to see that one of them 
was Dick Erskine. The other was Doctor Gray. 
They obeyed promptly the commands which came 
sharply and in quick succession. 

“Hands up ! About face ! March !” 

The rest of the committee — not the Committee 
— laughed when they were marched into the room 
in which their marcher had seen and heard the 
Committee the night before. 

“You wish you’d let me go now, do-n’t you — 
leaving my revolver behind ?” drawled Hugh, with 
his slow smile and long-drawn grin. 

Mr. Nothym’s goatee stood obliquely in the air, 
as he said grimly — his sense of the ludicrousness 
of the situation having passed : 


1 86 How Baldy Won 

“Didn’t I tell you that Pd seen him handle a 
revolver, and that he beats the world !” 

The somebody within pulled the string, and to 
Mr. Bynson’s lips came the financier’s smile, as he 
said : 

“He knows not only how to handle a revolver, 
he also knows his own mind, and how to handle 
himself ” 

“To say nothing of Tub and Fire !” put in Hugh, 
more promptly than he had ever been known to 
speak before. 

Paying no attention to the interruption, Mr. 
Bvnson went on: 

“He’s a good man to have on our side !” 

“Amen !” chimed in Mr. Gurnsey, with an unc- 
tion which could not have been surpassed had he 
been in a revival-meeting. Not his religion, but 
his hypocrisy, had become a second nature to him r 
and always came to the fore when he was excited. 

Said Mr. Bynson: 

“I propose •” 

“I beg your pardon,” said Emory, ‘Tut Fm in 
the position to make propositions now! What I 
propose is, that you all stand up !” 

They all stood up. 

“That the rest of you put your hands above your 
heads, as the Doctor and Mr. Erskine have already 
done !” 


The County Seat. 187 

The rest of them put their hands above their 
heads. 

"That you all face me l" 

They all faced him. 

"That you line up !” 

They lined up. 

"That you right dress !” 

They right dressed. 

"That you right about face !” 

They right about faced. 

"That you forward march !” 

They forward marched. 

"That you halt V y 

They halted. 

They were directly in front of a table which 
stood a little out from the wall at the bottom of 
the room. 

"Now,” said Emory, "I want you to place your 
revolvers on that table ! You know that I’m by 
profession not a man of blood. But my situation 
is rather a desperate one. I’m alone. There 
are six of you. In self-defense, I’ll have to kill 
the man who does not obey me ! When I say ‘The 
right hand/ bring that hand down, draw a re- 
volver and place it on the table — keeping the left 
hand in the air. This done return the right hand 
into the air. When I say ‘left hand’ bring your 
left hand down, draw your other revolver, and 


188 How Baldy Won 

place it on the table — keeping the right hand in 
the air. Now: 

“Right hand l" 

Six right hands descended, six revolvers were 
drawn and deposited on the table, and six hands 
returned into the air. 

“Left hand !” 

Six left hands descended, six more revolvers 
were drawn and deposited on the table, and six 
hands returned into the air. 

The men stood as they had stood before they 
began disarming themselves. 

“Right about face V 9 

They were again facing up the room. 

“Forward march l" 

As they approached him, Emory stepped to- 
wards them, moving obliquely, all the while cover- 
ing them with his revolver. While their backs 
were towards him he had not had his eyes off them 
for a moment. But reaching back, he had closed 
the door, turned the key which stuck in it, and 
pulled it out and put it in his pocket. When they 
were within a pace of the door, he commanded : 

“Halt V 9 

They halted. 

f ‘Right about face l” 

Again they right abouted. 

When he had regarded them for a bit, with a. 


The County Seat. 189 

smile out of which a good deal of the wickedness 
was gone, he said: 

“Now, gentlemen, you are disarmed. You are 
at the mercy of a parson, who believes in preach- 
ing the gospel not only, but also in enforcing its 
principles when necessary — the ability according 
with the necessity. I can only surmise what you 
would have done had you gotten me in your power, 
and, though I am about as curious as the average 
person, that does not matter now. I not only 
preach, and enforce, when I can, the principles of 
the gospel, I believe in them, and, occasionally, 
make some sort of an effort to live them. Take 
down your hands! Break ranks! But stay in 
that part of the room ! I ? ll keep between you and 
the table for the present.” 

There was no response. The silence was em- 
barrassing. Emory broke it by saying: 

“Mr. Bynson, you had a proposition to make, 
had you not ?” 

His string-produced smile very pronounced, Mr. 
Bynson replied: 

“For the moment I had forgotten that this is not 
a meeting of the Vigilance Committee, but of a 
committee appointed by it, and was going to pro- 
pose your name for membership.” 

“Go ahead !” said Erskine. “As we practically 
appointed ourselves, and as we will receive it, I 


190 How Baldy Won 

guess our report of whatever we do will be ac- 
cepted !” 

Thinking that he might have more influence 
within than without the body of the Vigilantes, 
Emory said : 

“I would be perfectly willing to receive the 
honor.” 

Made by Mr. Bynson, seconded by Doctor Gray, 
put by Erskine, there was unanimous accord to the 
nomination. 

“Now,” said Emory, “I take it that you are 
honorable men, and mean what you’ve done. I 
accept the result. But before I relinquish my ad- 
vantage over you I must attend to the business that 
came to my mind before I was out of bed this 
morning. What do you propose to do in the case 
of the Butternut City editor ?” 

“We did propose to kidnap him,” boomed 
Erskine. “But now we must ask you what you 
will allow us to do with him !” 

“What do you mean by kidnapping him ?” asked 
Emory. 

“Only taking him off till the county seat ques- 
tion is settled!” 

“Doing him any harm ?” 

“No.” 

“Making him comfortable ?” 

“Yes!” answered Dick, seeing Emory’s drift — 


The County Seat. 191 

“furnishing him with the best accommodations 
that can be commanded — the best eatables — the 
best smokables — the best drinkables !” 

“He probably wouldn’t treat you better ?” 

“Couldn’t !” 

“He’d kidnap you if he had a chance ?” 

“Bet your boots ! And consider it the best joke 
of the season !” 

“On the conditions mentioned/’ said Emory, “I, 
myself, vote for the kidnapping of Editor Walker! 
Resume your arms, gentlemen !” 

The meeting broke up in great good humor. 

Hugh went to his room with Emory, and 
actually cried with admiration for his kinsman 

“But how did it come that not one of the four 
of you in the committee room came to the aid of 
your fellows in trouble ?” asked Emory. 

“They were two against one ! Then ^Tothym 
couldn’t, and neither of the three others of us was 
disposed.” 

“I thank you ? Hugh.” 

“You needn’t. ‘Blood’s thicker than water/ I 
knew the blood that I would be going up against, 
and felt that the real interest of Breezemead 
would be served better by the defeat of the pur- 
pose of the committee — which had refused to listen 
to me — than by its success !” 


192 


How Baldy Won 

“But the three others? — the reason for Mr^ 
Nothym’s inactivity in the case being known/' 
“The nerves of both Mr. Bynson and Mr. Gum- 
sey are good enough, hut the caution of each of 
them is better! You had an eye out for us?” 

“I was faced in that direction !” 


The County Seat. 


i93 


CHAPTER XIV. 

HIGHWAY ROBBERY. 

Hugh gone, Emory stepped to the window and 
looked out. There was the first hint of day. 
Things were seen vaguely. They were dripping. 
He knew that as the night had come on there had 
been no indication of rain. Then lie remembered 
that he was within the Great American Desert — a 
region which less than twenty years before had 
been thought uninhabitable, save for prairie-dogs, 
owls, rattlesnakes, coyotes, buffaloes, Indians and 
the tougher species of cowboys — into which a few 
hardy adventurers — the scouts of civilization — 
had pushed, and shown that the soil was marvel- 
ously productive, when there was sufficient rain- 
fall, which, it was established in time, there was apt 
to be during enough seasons to keep a large popu- 
lation alive, though through the other seasons what 
was not parched by the fierce sun was withered 
by the hot winds. Remembering that he was in a 


i 9 4 


How Baldy Won 

region wmch partook of the character of the desert, 
he knew that the dampness wuth which everything 
— the buildings, the occasional fence, the hitching 
posts, and the few young trees which had been set 
out by the better-to-do, to be watered and propped 
and repropped daily against the winds which were 
constantly blowing — was dripping was the result 
of, not rain, but dew, which the earth yields 
nightly and the atmosphere absorbs daily — I 
would better say morningly, were I allowed to 
coin a word, for the sun is not far above the hori- 
zon before the dew-dampness is gone, and every- 
where is the dead-dry from which he went down. 

As the light increased the scene became ghostly. 
I know of nothing more suggestive of the un- 
earthly than a sunrise on the prairies. He comes 
over the edge of a level. There are no trees or 
heights to cast shadows, no valleys in which they 
may lurk. There is no real or apparent conflict 
between Light and Darkness. And death without 
a struggle is always disheartening — even the death 
of Darkness. But there is a more general truth in- 
volved here. To an imaginative and impression- 
able person, a sunset is full of poetry, hope, the 
sense of victory, while a sunrise is full of prose, 
despair, the sense of defeat. And there was never 
a more imaginative and impressionable human be- 
ing than was this same Emory M. Emberson. 


195 


The County Seat. 

That which he had seen vaguely in waiting for, 
that of which he had not thought in the excite- 
ment of the renconter with the leaders of the 
Vigilance Committee, came upon him now over- 
whelmingly — its exceeding danger. He had had 
one chance in a million of succeeding. He had 
taken that chance. He had won. He had won 
simply through daring and address. He could 
imagine how his mother’s form would straighten, 
and how her eyes would sink back and glow in the 
cavities under her brows, with pride in the one 
who was not only her son, but her representative 
in the battle of life, did she know how he had de- 
meaned himself in the ordeal through which he 
had just passed. Ordeal ? It would have been an 
ordeal for one differently constituted. But he had 
been awfully tried — in waiting for the ordeal to 
begin. Through that Miss Avawav, or his thought 
of her — whichever it was — had helped him. 

There came to him the question: 

“Could anyone be of so much help to another 
as she was to me without being present ?” 

He could only answer the question speculatively, 
and I must allow what response I may be able to 
make to come naturally in its place in the con- 
tinued unfolding of this history. 

When Erskine’s knock had come — then Emory 


196 How Baldy Won 

had needed no support, for he was naturally a 
fighting man. 

But Miss Avaway did not keep his mo.ther long 
from his mind. 

Looking out on the ghostliness of the morning 
there came a thought to him which made him 
shudder : 

“What would have been the effect upon her had 
the battle gone the other way ?” 

The men with whom he had had to deal were 
desperate men. One of them had indirectly 
warned him out of the country. Had he made no 
verbal reply to this, his remaining would have ex- 
pressed defiance. Had he not conquered them at 
the point of the revolver, they might have done t^ 
him as Vigilantes were constantly doing to men 
who had done wrong according to their standard, 
or who — which was too often the same thing with 
them — stood in their way. He saw vividly a limb 
and a rope, and turned ashen — feeling a con- 
striction of the throat, as he pulled at his collar. 
And there came to him another vision of his 
mother. As before, her eyes were sunken in the 
cavities under her brows, and there was still in 
them a look of pride for her son and representa- 
tive, but a pride coming, not from a jubilant, but 
from a broken heart. His pulse quivered, and his 
heart almost stood still at the thought of what 


The County Seat. 


197 


might have been. The may-bes and the might- 
have-beens give to some natures almost as poig- 
nant pain, or as keen pleasure, for the moment, as 
the ares. The advice is given to imaginative per- 
sons to pay no attention to their imaginings. The 
advice is good. But it is hard to follow. A man 
with the gout might about as well be advised to 
pay no attention to the pain in his great toe. But 
Emory had good sense. He was hard-headed to a 
degree. To call his imagination away from what 
might have been — to have it quietly by the side of 
reason in the presence of what was — he laid a 
strong hold upon it. He threw himself upon his 
bed. But there he could not rest. His imagina- 
tion would not yield to the advances of reason, 
and so could not long be controlled. He still 
thought of his mother — of all the unrest he had 
given her; of her coming to be an old woman; of 
his leaving her, coming to this wild country and 
endangering not only his life, but hers also — for 
he could not think that she would long survive 
him — especially should he come to a tragical end — 
and more especially should that end be shameful ; 

of But why go on ? His imagination was not 

alone in torturing him now. His conscience had 
come to its assistance. From that he fled. 

He sprang to his feet and looked about for a 
button to touch. 


198 How Baldy Won 

Then he laughed in remembering how he had 
been stared at when he asked for a room with a 
bath at the Houston House at Whackston. 

He had not made the same mistake at the Ad- 
nogal House. 

There he had only asked that a pitcher of hot 
water be sent to his room in the morning. 

The request had been so unusual that the clerk 
had sent for the proprietor. But it had been 
granted. 

It was now too early for the hot water to ap- 
pear. So he proceeded to get himself in shape for 
the day with cold water — the tin washbowl, which 
would not hold more than three pints, serving for 
a baihtub. • 

By the time he had bathed and shaven and 
gotten on clean linen, he was in a quieter state of 
mind. He looked at his watch. Breakfast would 
not be on table for more than an hour. He did 
not care to lie down again. He would go for a 
walk. He w r as soon on the veranda. Which way 
should he go? It did not matter much. All ways 
w r ere nearly the same, so far as scenery was con- 
cerned. But not quite. He remembered that to 
the east there were a couple of mounds, which he 
had heard called The Twins, now hidden by the 
hotel. But he did not know what detours he 
vTuld have to make to reach them, and he was in 


1 99 


The County Seat. 

no mood for either speculations or investigations. 
To the west and the north and the south — making 
a wide half circuit of the town — was the river — 
the immediate hanks of which are quite heavily 
wooded. The road before him led, to the right, 
out of the town. He felt like getting away from 
people. There would be few, if any, on the street 
at so early an hour. But they lived in the houses. 
And he was disposed to avoid everything associated 
with them. So he stepped down and started north. 
He had not gone far — say a quarter of a mile — 
when he came to a depression in the road. He 
was now not far from the river, along which he 
had noticed from the veranda a fog hung. As he 
descended into the depression he was aware that 
he was entering this fog. As he continued to 
descend, it became quite thick. At the bottom it 
was opaque and chilling. As he ascended he 
heard the footbeats of an approaching horse. He 
felt for his revolver. He had left it in his room. 
Did he turn back he would be overtaken, and he 
dared not step off to the right or the left, as the 
road was rudely constructed, as if it might pass 
through a slough. There was nothing to do but 
to keep right on. In a moment he was face to face 
with a horseman — such an horseman as he had 
never seen — save in a show, or some public place. 
He was red, and appeared to be painted redder, 


200 


How Baldy Won 

though that appearance might have been produced 
by a red blanket which he wore with a careless 
grace — such as that with which the Eoman is 
represented as wearing his toga — a grace with 
which one can wear nothing to which he is not 
born. He had feathers in his hair. He rode with 
a loose rein. He worked his heels incessantly 
against the sides of his pony. His elbows were 
far from his body, and his arms went as do the 
wings of a hen in a hurry. His hands were in 
ceaseless motion — the left holding the reins pur- 
poselessly, in the right the short-handled and long, 
plaited-lashed whip, which is known in the South- 
west as the quirque. He was armed with revolvers 
and a repeating-rifle, for use, and with a bow and 
a quiver of arrows, for show, or for knocking over 
the small game of the prairies — such as jackrabbits 
and prairie chickens — to the saving of more valu- 
able ammunition. 

These particulars of the horseman’s mount, 
dress, bearing and arms Emory afterwards remem- 
bered very vividly. At the moment of the meeting 
the sensitive plate of his mind must have been very 
sensitive indeed. Still he had never been so 
nearly stampeded. When this Indian warrior 
loomed upon him out of the fog, all the stories of 
Indian warfare, treachery and cruelty that he had 
ever heard or read darted into his mind. He re- 


201 


The County Seat. 

sisted a disposition to run. Then for a moment 
there came a paralysis over him. This partially 
passed, had he had his revolver he might have 
reached for it and begun shooting. But fortunately 
he was entirely unarmed. The Indian said : 

“How V s and reached out to shake hands. 

Emory misunderstood the motion and stepped 
hack. 

Then the Indian put on a severe look, and de- 
manded : 

“Money !” 

Emory reached in his pocket and gave all the 
change he had. 

Then came another demand: 

“More l” 

By this time Emory had sufficiently recovered 
self-possession to shake his head, point along the 
road, and say, in a voice which was not without 
indication that he expected to be obeyed, though 
it did shake somewhat: 

“Ride on !” 

And, after he had made a sign of friendship, ac- 
companied by a self-abasing smile, on the Indian 
went. Realizing how completely he had been 
bluffed, and with a sickly smile of disgust for him- 
self, Emory continued his constitutional. - He had 
not gone far before he came to an Indian encamp- 
ment. Seeing some whites, he approached them. 


202 


How Baldy Won 

and learned that the Indians were of the Pawnee 
tribe, which was being taken to the Indian Terri- 
tory. The Indian whom he had met was in the em- 
ploy of the Government. The whites may have 
wondered at the singular smile which came over 
their questioner’s face, as he turned to retrace his 
steps. It was one of self-contempt. He had never 
been so fully aware that he had a white feather 
among his natural impedimenta: But has there 
ever been man so brave that he did not feel fear 
on occasion? Had he been armed, and had any- 
thing like a chance, he would have met the horse- 
man, not fearlessly probably, but boldly, had he 
been the incarnate Mitche Manito. But he wa^ 
not armed. He had come out without the reliance 
of every American — especially of every American 
at the West. And he had been alone, not only on 
the lonely prairie but in a fog, in the presence of 
— whom ? Barring the ghost, the most terrible 
being that the negro story-teller paints, or used to 
paint — to say nothing of the yellow-backed fiction 
of forty years ago — to the fancy of the child of the 
South. Not considering the printed fiction, the 
one who, before he was in his teens, in the circle 
before the open fire in the old kitchen, with the 
shadows drawing near, the flames flickering out, 
the coals dying down and bedtime approaching, 
heard uncle and auntie vying with each other in 


203 


The County Seat. 

telling ghost and Indian stories, and then crawled 
off for the night — so terrified that he dared 
scarcely breathe lest he call some phantom or sav- 
age npon him — will appreciate the state of our 
hero’s mind when that redman, that armed red- 
man, that apparently painted and really feathered 
redman, rode upon him out of the fog, and will not 
wonder that he was first nearly stampeded, then 
paralyzed, that he gave up his money on demand, 
and that for a second — a fact that I have held 
back so far in the hope that my historical con- 
science might allow me to not record it — his only 
regret was that he had not more to give. 


204 


How Baldy Won 


CHAPTER XV. 

BALDY. 

When he entered the office upon his return, he 
saw groups of men picking their teeth. Had he 
needed further evidence that breakfast was on, he 
would have had it in the numbers whom he could 
see, through a door which opened into the front 
hallway, approaching the dining-room, in the rat- 
tle of dishes, which was almost as distinct as if- 
the service was going on in his presence, the smell 
of food, which could not have been much more 
distinct had there been no pretension of partitions, 
and the hurrying to and fro of waiters, glimpses 
of whom were caught through a door opposite the 
one of which I have spoken. 

Though he had been addressed by more than 
one on the veranda, he had not stopped ; for he had 
seen in the road, at the other end of it, the horse- 
man with whom he had so recently had meeting. 


205 


The County Seat. 

He saw by a quick glance which this now dis- 
mounted horseman gave him, that he was recog- 
nized. 

Those about the savage were treating him with 
anything but respect. 

This brought the blood to Emory’s face. 

What if he should say something about their 
meeting ! 

Did he know enough English to do so ? 

That he might not was Emory’s inward prayer. 

This pra} T er was still in his mind when he en- 
tered the dining-room. 

It was driven into his subconsciousness by the 
beckoning of a hand — a slender, white hand 

It was the hand of Miss Day Gurnsey — the 
daughter of the landlord. 

She was a typical Western girl. She was open 
arid free and unaffected as the day — after which 
she might appropriately have been named. She 
was a blonde. She was slight, supple, graceful. 

That he responded to her beckon by going to her, 
I need not say. 

As has been recorded, he met her at supper on 
the evening of his arrival. 

He had met her at every meal since, and fre- 
quently between meals. 

At the first and at the subsequent of these meals 
she had been surrounded by a court of admirers. 


206 How Baldy Won 

' Though it was breakfast, the same thing was 
true now. 

When he* reached her, she said: 

“When I came in I made inquiry of the head 
waiter, and found that you had not yet breakfasted. 
I have saved this seat for you, hoping that you 
might show up before I was through/’ 

At this she turned back a chair which she had 
leaned against the table beside her. 

As she did so, two or three young fellows who 
had been standing by, each of them hoping he 
might be requested to take the place, moved off to 
other tables, one of them saying, good-naturedly: 

“When a preacher’s about we poor devils have 
no show!” 

“If you always behaved yourselves as the preach- 
ers do, you would have more show !” replied Miss 
Day, as good-naturedly. “You drink and smoke, 
and play cards, and expect to be treated as if you 
were nice !” 

At this Emory laughed, and said: 

“Though I think you’re right, Miss Gurnsey, I 
can’t help regretting that you don’t like fellows 
who smoke ; I ” 

“Psha !” broke in Miss Day. “I was only talk- 
ing to those fellows! Were I a man ” 

“Thank goodness you’re not !” said a young 
lawyer — one of the number who sat at Miss Day’s 


207 


The County Seat. 

rather large table — and received more unanimous 
applause than would have come to him, in all prob- 
ability, had he said something much more brilliant 
but of different import. 

The Queen bent her little head in a sweeping 
bow. 

Emory said: 

“I’ve just returned from a delightful matutinal 

walk r 

“What does that mean ?” asked the Queen. “I 
have heard of matutinal drinks, but I never be- 
fore heard of a matutinal walk!” 

With an outright laugh, Emory replied: 

“You don’t take me for a schoolteacher, do you? 
It’s bad enough to be a clergyman !” 

“But do tell me, please ! What does matutinal 
mean ?” pleaded the Queen. 

“Are you in earnest?” asked Emory. 

“Of course !” 

What could be done but comply? 

“Oh !” she exclaimed, in a rippling voice. “I 
thought it meant a liquor, like tarantula-juice, of 
wdiich the men here are always talking!” 

At this there was loud laughter, in which the 
Queen did not join. She asked Emory: 

“How did you come to walk? Why didn’t you 
ride? You do ride, don’t you?” 

“Oh, yes !” was the reply. “A little ! I haven’t 


2o8 


How Baldy Won 

had time to ride since l arrived, but it must be 
splendid riding over the prairies !” 

“Indeed it is !” exclaimed the Queen, with en- 
thusiasm. “Wouldn’t you like to try it?” 

“Indeed I would !” 

“When?” 

“Whenever you say !” 

“This afternoon?” 

“Yes; if I can get a mount.” 

“What’s that?” 

“A horse.” 

“Oh ! I’ll attend to that !” 

Turning to a member of her suite, she asked : 

“Can I have Dollie?” 

“Yes.” 

“Can you furnish Mr. Emberson with a horse?” 

“Yes.” 

This answer was made with a grin, which, in ad- 
dition to the fact that while he and Miss Day 
were talking riding he thought he saw the court 
exchanging glances, caused Emory to say: 

“There is but one sort of a horse which I would 
refuse to mount, and that’s the bucker ! And 
were I to get on him by mistake I would simply 
jump, roll, or fall off ! The getting off would be 
more important to me than the manner in which 
it might come about !” 

Had not the Queen been of such a perfectly sim- 


209 


The County Seat. 

pie and unsuspicious nature she could not have 
presided over her court so successfully. Had she 
been only a little suspicious she would have noticed 
the grin above mentioned, and the meaning 
glances. The grin came from Squire Riley — jus- 
tice of the peace and liveryman. 

There is nothing which the Westerner enjoys so 
much as playing a practical joke on the tender- 
foot. 

And, worse, he has a good memory, and ever 
afterwards uses it as a rail on which to ride its- 
victim. 

These things Emory knew, for he had worked 
sufficiently on Western papers to be less of a ten- 
derfoot than those among whom he found himself 
took him to be. 

He arose from the table and walked out of the 
dining-room with the Queen, thinking: 

“Those fellows have it in for me. But their 
looks indicate that what I have said will prevent 
them from attempting to spring a bucker on me, 
or having a bucker spring me. We’ll see ! But 
whatever comes I’ll do what I can to turn the joke 
on the jokers — risk much to that end. The 
chances are against my succeeding in this. In 
that case — no matter how hard I may find it — I 
shall join in the laugh against myself !” 

The train of thought which led to this conclu- 


210 


How Baldy Won 

sion might have been impossible to him had he 
been simply a theologne. 

But what other sizing np of the situation would 
have been possible to a boxer and a journalist ? 

In the hallway he bade good morning to the 
Queen, having arranged to meet her in the public 
parlor at noon and conduct her to dinner, and 
stepped on the veranda. 

The Indian w r as still in the road, shooting ar- 
rows at coins, in the split end of a stick, the other 
end of which v r as thrust in the ground, some twen- 
ty-five yards from him. 

He had had plenty of time to get aw r ay. 

Emory had been, and w T as still, anxious that he 
should be gone. 

But he was what all Indians are saot — a good 
shot, and was making money. 

This w r as enough, but it v r as not all that kept 
him. 

He did not know the character of Emory’s de- 
sire with regard to him. 

Getting away from the Adnogal House w T as not 
getting away from his tribe, or from the authori- 
ties. 

He knew that should the one from whom he 
had demanded money on the highway complain to 
the latter it would go hard enough with him. 

When Emory appeared, he knocked a coin from 


The County Seat. v 21 1 

the end of the stick, rushed to it, picked it up, and, 
as he pocketed it, approached his acquaintance of 
the fog, and said, in the best English : 

“We have met before !” 

That acquaintance laughingly replied: 

“Yes; but don’t bother about that ! Go on with 
your shooting ! I saw through the dining-room 
window that you are an expert with the bow and 
arrow, and it is always a pleasure to see one do 
what he do.es well !” 

He saw that he had nothing to fear from this 
..quarter, and did as he was told. 

When Emory had seen enough of the shooting 
at coins, having lighted another cigar, he went to 
his room, with the purpose of giving some atten- 
tion to the sermons which — this being Saturday 
— he must preach on the morrow. 

When we remember what he had been going 
through, in the immediate past — first, the trouble 
in his parish, making up his mind where he would 
next cast his lot, bidding good-bye to his mother; 
then, his railway trip, entering an untried field, 
watching the cowboys in Whackston, getting the 
drop on Blink-Eyed Tom of the Cowskin, the 
adventure with the Vigilantes, meeting the sav- 
age in the fog — remembering these things of his 
immediate past, and taking into the account the 
uncertainties of his immediate future, the fact that 


212 


How Baldy Won 

his mind would not work is not to be greatly won- 
dered at, or to be considered vastly to its discredit. 

After a time, he gave up the attempt to think, 
threw himself on his bed, with what had probably 
as much to do with the inability of his mind to 
work as any one or all of the things mentioned — • 
light brown hair combed smoothly over white tem- 
ples — alive in his memory, fondled by his imagina- 
tion, and went — sound asleep. 

Who has ever had love-dreams in broad day- 
light — unless he was able to drop silken curtains? 

As this was before the day of bath-rooms in 
Breezemead, or anywhere else “beyond the Mis- 
sissippi,"’ it was also before the day of silken cur- 
tains. 

So Emory had no love-dreams. 

But he had that which he very much needed — re- 
freshing sleep. 

He was awakened by the first dinner-bell. 

Miss Day was awaiting him in the parlor, in 
riding-habit. 

They had but entered the dining-room when the 
court appeared. 

Prominent in it was Squire Biley; for he was 
not only Justice of the Peace and liveryman, he 
was also handsome young man and great admirer 
of the Queen. 

As the company arose after the meal — though it 


The County Seat. 213 

nublic table, those about the Queen always 
cd seated till she set the example of rising 
said : 

‘Miss Gurnsey, I am short of hands to-day. 
Would you be willing to walk around to the 
stable ?” 

"Certainly !” 

Emory saw in this request the first move in get- 
ting the game into the trap. He glanced at Miss 
Day, wondering if she were party to the attempt. 
The simple, cliild-like expression of her face — in 
which there was nothing but pleasant anticipation 
of a ride — convinced him that she was not. As, 
half an hour later, they walked towards the stable, 
she asked: 

“Don't you smoke ?" 

"Yes.” 

“Haven't you a cigar?" 

“Yes." 

“Why don't you light it ?” 

“Will you allow me?" 

“Yes; I don't mind the scent of a cigar in the 
house; I perfectly dote upon it in the open air!" 

So Emory took from his pocket a box of storm- 
matches which had been given him, at his starting 
on his stage-ride for Breezemead, by the proprietor 
of the Houston House at Whaekston, and lighted 
up. 


214 


How Baldy Won 

As they were nearing the stable, Miss Day said: 

“I hope you may get as good a goer as Dollie ! 
If you do, we’ll have a fine gallop !” 

When they reached the stable, they found Dollie 
saddled. And a beautiful, trim, lithe little mare 
she was — just the mount for such an exquisite 
hint of a woman as the Queen. 

“And where is Mr. Emberson’s horse?” asked 
Her Majesty. 

“In his stall,” answered the Squire, with a 
glance at the court, which was assembled, to a 
man. 

Said the Queen, including everybody in a glance : 

“Kind of you to come to see us off !” 

Thought Emory : 

“To see the fun !” 

Said the Squire to the attendants — of whom, it 
struck Emory, there was not a marked scarcity : 

“Come, boys ! Get a move on you, ! Hustle ! 
Get Dollie outside!” 

Dollie was led out. The Queen followed her. 
Emory followed the Queen — stepping in front of 
the Squire. He proposed that no one but him- 
self should give her foot the hand for the mount. 
When she was mounted the two men returned to 
the stable — where the rest of the court had re- 
mained — evidently, to Emory’s mind, in waiting 
for something. 


215 


The County Seat. 

The Squire glanced about with an expression, 
which said : “Now for the fun !” and, with a ma- 
licious grin, ordered the attendants to: 

“.Bring out Baldy !” 

When Baldy came Emory saw why the Squire 
had left an attendant with Dollie and the Queen, 
with instructions to keep them well to one side of 
the doors. He was villainous-looking. His eyes 
were somewhat protruding, wide-open, wild. His 
red nostrils were thin and distended. His nose 
was Roman. His ears were thin and back. Ex- 
cepting one white foot and a white streak down 
the middle of his face, he was black and glossy as 
a crow. He looked the devil incarnate. Such 
must have been the war horse of the greatest of the 
Romans, whom none but Caesar himself could 
mount. Emory glanced at his feet the second 
time to make sure that one of them was not cloven. 
Two attendants — one on each side — were hanging 
desperately to his bits. The court— the Squire 
more closely than anyone else — looked at Emory 
to see what effect the horse’s appearance might 
have upon him. He asked: 

“Hoes he buck ■?” 

“No !” answered the Squire. 

What his special trick was Emory thought to 
have been intimated by the care which had been 


216 How Baldy Won 

taken to have Dollie and the Queen well away irom 
before the doors. 

These doors were within a few inches of being 
open as widely as possible. 

Attendants rushed forward and added these 
inches to the opening. 

Emory walked up, saw that the girths were all 
right ; examined the stirrup straps, to be sure that 
they were of proper length and stoutness; glanced 
at the bit-rings and the reins, said: “Now I” 
grasped the reins with his left hand, as he stuck 
his left foot in the 'stirrup, and was in the saddle. 

Baldy sank till his belly touched the floor and 
both of Emory’s heels were on the planks, then 
rose, and, with a snort, darted from the stable as 
if he had been shot from a catapult. 

As he did so, Emory did not tighten the reins, 
and quietly glanced round on the spectators, knock- 
ing the ashes from the cigar which he held in his 
right hand. Said the Squire: 

“He’ll do !” 

Baldy was magnificently constructed, powerful, 
and the pace he took was tremendous. 

Emory made no attempt to check him. 

This seemed to surprise him. 

Emory sank his heels into him. 

This seemed to give him further surprise. 

Emory suddenly tightened the reins. 


217 


The County Seat. 

He brought his teeth together with a snap. 

But they missed the bit. 

He was Emory’s captive. 

He was turned about and returned to the stable 
at full speed. 

The court cheered — excepting the Squire. 

He hung his head. 

He was as much overcome as was Baldy. 

The Queen said: 

“I hope, Mr. Emberson, that you don’t think 
that I had anything to do with this attempt to 
play a practical joke on you !” 

“I do not !” was the reply, “and can w T ell afford 
to hold no spite against anyone !” 

The Queen flashed on the court: 

“Gentlemen, I am ashamed of you ! and espe- 
cially of you, Squire Riley ! A stranger ” 

Emory — knowing that had the trick succeeded,, 
as it certainly would have done had he been a 
poorer horseman, the Queen would have laughed 
at him as heartily as anyone — said: 

“Oh, never mind ! Let’s be off !” 

And away they 'went. 

Within an hour of supper-time they were back, 
and Emory, wearied just enough for the quieting 
of the mercury within him, w r as sitting on the ve- 
randa, when the Queen, still in riding-habit, came 
out, accompanied by a young man, and said: 


2 I 8 


How Baldy Won 

“Mr. Emberson, allow me to make yon acquaint- 
ed with Mr. Avaway — Mr. Stephen Avaway.” 

Emory rose, took the not overly strong looking 
young fellow by the hand, and, the Queen with- 
drawing, invited him to a seat. 

They had not talked long before the young man 
spoke of being from Charlottesville. 

The name of the town and the name of the 
speaker brought vividly to Emory’s mind a young 
lady whom he had once known at school. 

She proved to be the young man’s sister. 

Here — as so often hapj)ens to strangers meeting 
in a new country — was a point of contact. 

But what was of more importance to Emory was 
that here w^as a point of contact for him w T ith the 
young man’s younger sister. 


The County Seat. 


219 


CHAPTER XVI. 

THE DREAM -HORSE. 

Emory was glad enough to go to bed early 
that night. The quicksilver was still. He was 
worn out, but not nervous. He fell asleep almost 
as soon as his head touched the pillow. There is 
no nerve-sedative equal to a long gallop — one being 
at home in the saddle, on a satisfactory horse, in 
pleasant company — especially when one has not 
ridden for a considerable time. 

Then he was under the influence of a spiritual 
sedative as well as a physical — that of having 
passed successfully through danger, which had 
come in a course which he had adopted in accord- 
ance to the dictates of his conscience and sense of 
manliness. 

In the morning he remembered but one dream. 

It was of being mounted on a more energetic 
horse than even Baldy — of riding, with a sense of 
absolute freedom, not on earth, but through space. 

And he was not alone. 


220 


How Baldy Won 

Another rode near him — on a mare which re- 
minded him of Dollie, but which was as much more 
active than she as his mount was more energetic 
than Baldy. 

This companion had great, confiding eyes, which 
thrilled him when he caught them. 

And they did not turn away from him. 

They were fastened upon him, as his were fixed 
upon the way through the stars. 

They were not the eyes of the Queen; for her 
eyes were a heavenly blue, while these were gray. 

He awakened thoroughly rested, energetically 
hopeful. 

This was fortunate ; it being the morning of his 
first Sunday in Breezemead, and the impression 
which a clergyman makes on that Sunday in a new 
parish being a potent factor in his success or 
failure in that parish — as everybody knows. 

The interior of St. JohiTs Church was larger 
than was exteriorly indicated. 

It seated several hundred people. 

On this day, it was crowded at matins. 

This may not surprise one who knows anything 
of a small town — especially of a small Western 
town. 

In such a town, when anyone knows anything in 
the way of news everybody knows it at once — as if 
telepathically. 


221 


The County Seat. 

This is the more certainty true the more import * 
ant the news — not that there is any news, in such 
a town, that is not important. 

And to it the most important of all news is the 
arrival of a new preacher — no matter what his de- 
nomination. 

At the West at the time when the events of this 
history occurred, there were no parsons, clergy- 
men, or priests. 

Emory had not been long in Breezemead before 
he was asked if he had met the Roman Catholic 
preacher. 

The news that there was a new preacher in town 
would have filled St. John’s Church, upon the 
morning in mind — even though the Episcopal 
Church, because of its ritual, was at that time the 
most unpopular of churches, at the West — and left 
the other places of worship empty, had it been 
large enough to hold the whole church-going popu- 
lation of Breezemead — to which end it would have 
needed to be large indeed; for it is in the nature of 
the human species to congregate somewhere: and 
I do not know that up to this time a real the- 
atrical or operatic troupe had visited Breezemead, 
or that a circus had been in its environs. 

Breezemead had a dance-hall, of course. Could 
there have been a Western town, so long ago, with- 
out a dance-hall? 


222 


How Baldy Won 

But the dance-hall in Breezemead was not so 
well patronized as was the one in Whackston. 

Though most of the Breezemeadians had left 
God at the Mississippi, they still had some prej- 
udices of education and inheritance against the 
devil and his ways — the chief of which was then 
the dance-hall. 

The very word dance horrified a large percent- 
age of them. 

They were largely of Puritan stock. 

This was true of the Vigilantes — excepting Dick 
Erskine and Hugh, who were of Cavalier origin 
— though Dick’s mother was, through force of cir- 
cumstances, a Methodist. 

Though they were capable of doing much more 
questionable things, the “respectable” Breezemead- 
ians would not touch cards, or dance, ordinarily — 
where they were liable to be seen by anyone who 
might “give them away.” 

Consequently about the only amusement — ex- 
cepting an annual community-ball; which could 
not have been had not the Puritan come to see 
that he, for material, if for no higher reason, owed 
some concession to those of different moral stand- 
ards ; to one of which I hope to take the reader be- 
fore this history terminates — about the only 
amusement, I say, which the better class of the 
Breezemeadians had was church. 


The County Seat. 223 

A new preacher to them was what a new prima 
donna, or tragedian, or comedian is to the same 
class of a large city. 

So it is not to be wondered at that St. John’s 
Church was crowded to hear Emory’s first sermon 
— or to see how he delivered it. 

But every population — even the better class of 
that population — has exceptions to the general 
truth with regard to it — persons who revolt 
against, or never think of obeying, the general rules 
.which govern it. 

In every great city there are wealthy men who 
belong to no club, and many who are abundantly 
able who never attend the play or the opera — some 
because they have no taste for the club, play, or the 
opera, some because of a disposition to take the 
direction opposite to that taken by others — some 
because they are hitched to a task which takes all 
their time. 

Though the great mass of the population did, 
there were those in Breezemead who did not attend 
church. 

Among these were a goodly number of the court. 

When Emory came down to a rather late break- 
fast, it was assembled in the dining-room, eating 
and chatting away — as many as could find seats 
there — at the Queen’s table — the remainder at 
tables near at hand. 


224 


How Baldy Won 

As he took a seat which the Queen had reserved 
at her right hand for him, she said : 

“We have been talking of going to church this 
morning !” 

"I hope that Your Majesty never thinks of not 
doing that !” responded Emory, with an inclination 
of the head. 

“Oh V 9 she replied, “I always go to church ! The 
question had reference to these gentlemen!” 

One — a lawyer, Green by name — said super- 
ciliously : 

“Fm too busy to go to church !” 

“You don’t work on Sunday, do you?” asked the 
Queen. 

“The very best day to work!” answered Mr. 
Green. “One is not so liable to interruption !” 

“I always talk about having the most to do when 
I have nothing to do !” said a young man of about 
Emory’s age, with eyes of the same light-blue color, 
hair of the same dark-brown, the same sort of 
slightly freckled complexion. He wore gold-bowed 
spectacles, as did Emory. The resemblance would 
have been remarkable had not Emory been cleanly 
shaven and the other worn a full beard, closely 
trimmed at the cheeks and to a Sir Walter Raleigh 
point. Noticing an amused and questioning look 
in Emory’s eyes, the Queen said : 


The County Seat. 225 

“Excuse me ! I had forgotten, Mr. Emberson, 
that you and Mr. Walker have not met !” 

At the name Walker Emory started. 

With a bow to Emory, followed by one to the 
Queen, Mr. Walker said: 

“I live in Butternut City, where I run a paper, 
or, rather, where a paper runs me. I" — with an- 
other bow to the Queen, which brought the blood 
to her face, and caused her to look away — “would 
be here oftener than I am, were it not that 
conditions have drawn a dead-line about Breeze- 
mead for me. It wouldn't do for me” — with a 
laugh — “to be here before the sun rises, or after 
he goes down, any more than it would for the 
editor of The Stunner ’ — Breezemead’s leading 
paper — “to be in Butternut City between those 
diurnal astronomical events/’ 

“You came up to hear the new preacher, I pre- 
sume !” said Mr. Green, with something like x 
sneer. 

Mr. Walker, bowing courteously to Emory, said: 

“Xo. I’m on my way to Whackston. I had in- 
tended starting on directly after breakfast. But, 
having met Mr. Emberson’’ — another bow to 
Emory — “I confess to some curiosity to hear him. 
I have a good team. I can make the drive in the 
afternoon by hurrying a little. Then the moon is 
full, the nights are pleasant, and so I do not 


226 


H ow Baldy Won 

know that it matters much whether I get to 
Whaekston before sundown — especially as long be- 
fore that I would be out of this county — the only 
one in America, so far as I know, in which there is 
anyone who would be in the least benefited by 
harm’s coming to me !” 

“Well, Mr. Walker,” said Emory, “as I’m to be 
the preacher, I would naturally feel a little mod- 
esty in inviting you to church at St. John this 
morning ; but I presume, you having expressed a 
disposition to be there, I may safely say that I 
would be glad to see you !” 

“I’m cornin’, too!” said Squire Biley, to whom 
Emory had howed cordially upon entering. “When 
I was a boy in Sunday school, I used to hear about 
the horse of the Apocalypse — I don’t remember 
what — but something. If you can ride him as 
well as you did Baldy yesterday, you’re a dandy in 
heavenly as well as in earthly horsemanship !” 

In the midst of the laugh which this awakened, 
Emory, his breakfast completed, excusing himself 
to the Queen, rose to go. 

Xot liking the background of the conversation 
into which he had been pushed, Mr. Green asked, in 
the high, pointed tone peculiar to him : 

“Say. Mr. Preacher, a lawyer ivas the first man 
to meet Christ, wasn’t he?” 

Said Emory: 


227 


The County Seat. 

“I haven’t the time to pass upon the question 
now; but, admitting it to be true, from what I 
know of lawyers I would say that it is a bit of 
history not likely to repeat itself !” 

Mr. Green turned red, and the rest of the court 
burst into another laugh, the Squire guffawing and 
pounding the table with the handle of his knife. 

I have said that, the day before, when Emory 
tried to think, realizing that he was on the eve of 
having to preach, his intellectual machinery would 
not work. 

On reaching his room now there was the same 
trouble. 

But it had come to be nine o’clock. 

In another hour and a half he would be in the 
chancel, vested, beginning the service. 

He must, at least, select a text. 

The one which came to him was: 

“Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.” 

It may be wondered why he did not take an old 
sermon. 

This wonder would not come to one who knows 
Mr. Emberson. 

He had no more an already prepared sermon to 
his name then than he has now. 

The canonical sermons which he had been com- 
pelled to prepare and present to the Examining” 
Chaplains before his priesting — where were they?} 


228 


How Baldy Won 

He did not know. 

His thought has always been: What is the use 
of writing a sermon ! When it is preached, that 
is the end of it — so far as its being a production 
is concerned. And if the same thing be not true 
so far as its being an influence is concerned, the 
preacher may consider himself lucky ! 

When he stepped to the lectern — which served 
also as a pulpit — and read his text, the first ques- 
tion which came to his mind was: 

“Who is my neighbor ?” 

Then came: “How well should I love myself ?” 

Then: “How well should I love my neighbor?*’ 

In putting the third question, he became aware 
of Miss Avaway. 

She had played the organ, and led the really 
good choir in the hymns and canticles. 

For the sermon, she sat modestly on a chair at 
the end of the organ towards the east wall. 

He caught her eyes. 

They had the same expression with which they 
had regarded him in the dream-ride. 

The same high spirit came to him which he had 
felt in rushing among the stars. 

He said: 

t 

“Every soul is an individual. There is a nar- 
row sphere within which it is emperor. It is over: 
against the universe. It must take care of itself 


229 


The County Seat. 

and of its own. It has rights. It must see that 
nobody overrides those rights. It must defend it- 
self and its interests at all hazards. It will some- 
time he called to give an account of this steward- 
ship, as certainly as of any other. It must fight 
those who come — fight them with their own weap- 
ons. There is but one thing, for instance, with 
which the devil can be fought, and that is fire. 
But one must be magnanimous. He should burn 
even the devil as little as possible. When a strong 
man, armed, comes upon me to despoil me, it will 
not do for me to meet him with naked hands. I 
must meet him with arms ! If I do not take care 
of self, of its territory, of its belongings, the Over 
Lord will sometime condemn me — when He comes, 
or when He sends for me. It seems to me that 
there has been a lot of wrong teaching in the 
name of the Galilean — teaching, basis for which is 
not found in what He is reported to have taught ! 
He was the most manly man the world has known. 
In quoting the commandment which is my text 
from the Old Testament, I have no doubt He 
emphasized the ‘as/ ‘Thou shalt love thy neigh- 
bor as thyself/ While he said: Tut up thy 
sword; for he who taketh the sword shall die 
by the sword !’ He also said : ‘Sell thy coat and 
buy two swords !’ Did he spare His enemies — the 
Pharisees? Did He not call them ‘whited sepul- 


230 How Baldy Won 

chers?’ Must his eyes not have gleamed with 
wrath when He cast out those who were defiling 
the Temple? But, it may be asked, did He not 
say at the end : ‘A new commandment I give unto 
you, that ye love one another!’ Certainly. But 
He gave this as the law of the Church which He 
was founding — in which everyone was to be gov- 
erned by the law of love — from which the one not 
so governed, but under the dominance of the law 
of selfishness, was to be cast out, looked upon as a 
heathen and a stranger. Were all mankind in the 
Empire of Love and governed by its law, then no 
one would need to protect himself, his territory, 
his belongings. But up to the time that all are 
externally and internally Christian, each is sub- 
ject to that need. But in acting under it one 
must be careful to not infringe upon the rights of 
another, any further than that other would be dis- 
posed to infringe upon his rights, and to not main- 
tain the position such an infringement may give 
him longer than is absolutely necessary. The 
Christ said to forgive ‘seventy times seven/ but 
he did not say to not kill the wild beast which is 
trying to kill you — to not ward off the blow when 
you are attacked — to not incarcerate the one who 
would incarcerate you, if he could. The truth in 
the matter is that such a thing as forgiveness with- 
out repentance upon the part of the one who has 


The County Seat. 231 

done the wrong is an impossibility. Self-protec- 
tion is the first law of nature — nature is God’s — 
and, so, Christianity antagonizes, can antagonize, no 
law of nature. The mistake which has been made 
is that of attempting to apply the policy which the 
Christ gave for the governance of His Church to 
the every-day life of the individual among those 
who have never felt the movements of the principle 
of love within them. Were a man in this country 
— I would fancy, from the little I have seen of it 
— to turn The other cheek also’ to everybody, he 
would soon have no cheek to turn. Should a man 
he struck simply because he is a Christian — were 
that possible any more — he should not resent it. 
But should he allow himself to be wronged as a 
private individual without resentment or protest, 
would he not be failing in his duty to himself, to 
other individuals, to the community, and to God?” 

I make haste to admit that this utterance is more 
heathen than Christian. 

But the faithful historian must record many 
things which he would gladly have pass into ob- 
livion. 

Still no one can be injured by an honest utter- 
ance. 

And that the young preacher was honest in this 
case, no one hearing him could question. 

His delivery was very energetic — with that en- 


2 32 How Baldy Won 

orgy which comes not of calculation, but is as 
spontaneous as the bursting out of a fountain. 

By the time he came to the portion which I have 
reported all embarrassment was gone; his attitudes 
and gestures were free and graceful — natural; his 
voice — of the compass of which there was no evi- 
dence in his reading — rang out like a bugle; and 
his face had the tense, set, earnest look which it 
must have had in his dream-ride through the con- 
stellations. 

As he concluded, and turned for the ascription, 
he again caught Miss Ava way’s eyes. 

In them there was a rapt look. 

She had evidently been carried out of, and away 
from herself. 

It was only when he was in the midst of the 
offertory sentences, that she — with a catch of the 
breath — blushed deeply, quietly took her place at 
the organ, and began a voluntary, which lasted 
through the passing of the basins, and merged into 
the prelude of: “All things come of Thee, Oh, 
Lord ! — ” at the presentation. 

Many tarried after the service to meet the new 
rector. ' 

His hand was not in a normal state for as much 
as an hour afterwards, from the hearty squeezes 
which it received. 


The County Seat. 233 

Almost everyone had a word of praise for “the 
effort.” 

Said Mr. Walker: 

“I have been repaid for waiting, even if I do 
not reach Whackston before midnight !” 

Said Mr. Bynson — the somebody within actually 
forgetting to pull the string : 

“You said to me a day or so ago that you never 
paid attention to what was none o ? your business. 
Preaching being your business, you have certainly 
paid some attention to it ! You know how to do 
it, anyway !” 

Said Doctor Gray — with scarcely a hint of the 
post-nasal snicker: 

“I think this climate will agree with you !” 

Said Dick Erskine, in his bluff, hearty, not un- 
cultured way: 

“You are something with the gospel gun as well 
as with the more ordinary sort !” 

“Yes,” said Mr. iSTothym, who stood by to take 
the hand as soon as Dick should drop it, “he more 
than made us shake our heads; he hit each of 
them plump in the centre !” 

Squire Riley also stood by. 

He next took the hand, saying — changing the 
figure : 

“And you, as a rider, leave nothing to desire! 
You managed the apocalyptical hoss quite as well 


234 How Baldy Won 

as you did Baldy. You’ll do ! When you feel like 
a gallop, come around to the stable!” 

The next to take the now numb hand was Mr. ' 
Gurnsey. 

Showing the whole cemetery of dead-white teeth, 
he said: 

“I doubt if a Methodist Bishop could beat that !” 
— the highest compliment he could pass; for he 
thought that the best preachers in the world were 
the Methodist preachers, and that the best of the 
Methodist preachers were the Methodist Bishops. 

The last to take the hand was Hugh. 

With his slowest smile, and his longest grin, he 
drawled : 

“Blood wi-11 te-11, E-m!” 


The County Seat. 


235 


CHAPTER XVII. 

PASTORAL CALL. 

After the service Hugh walked to the hotel with 
Emory, and accompanied him to his room. 

But he did not feel like talking. 

Seeing this Hugh did not remain. 

He gone, Emory threw himself on his bed. 

But the dinner-bell soon rang, and he arose and 
descended to the dining-room. 

The court was assembled; but there were fewer 
of it at the Queen’s table than usual ; several of its 
places were taken by others. 

At the Queen’s left sat Miss Avaway. 

At the Queen’s right was reserved the usual place 
for him. 

The other places of the court which had been 
taken were occupied by persons to whom the exi- 
gencies of this history make it necessary that a lit- 
tle attention be paid. 


236 


How Baldy Won 

One was an old gentleman — tall, slender, with a 
pronounced Roman nose, high cheek bones, coarse, 
perfectly straight, faded hair, thin whiskers, a 
little more nearly gray, protruding brows, a reced- 
ing forehead, and a good head. 

Another, one of those elderly ladies, concerning 
whom one involuntarily says: “What a beautiful 
girl she must have been !” — of the Fanny Fern 
class — of the mental temperament, with very large 
ideality, the phrenologist would have said. 

Then, two young men — the first of whom had 
lost the outer phalanges of his index and middle 
fingers, who had a cow-lick at the right of his fore- 
head, which caused his stiff, jet-black hair to stand 
stubbornly up at that point, who was very dark, 
with hazel eyes (his temperament was emphatically 
of the sanguine sort) — the second of whom — as 
light as the first was dark — looked at the new- 
comer with a meaningless smile. 

It was he with whom Emory had had the con- 
versation on the veranda, in which it had tran- 
spired that an older sister of his was a point of 
contact for them. 

It had, also, transpired in that conversation that 
he was a brother of the prima donna of the concert 
— the effects of which, at the time of the conversa- 
tion, Emory was still so keenly feeling. 

He concluded at once that the other strangers 


The County Seat. 23 7 

at the Queen’s table were relatives of the same 
young lady. 

This conclusion was confirmed by the Queen’s 
saying: 

“Mr. Emberson, you have met Miss Avaway and 
her brother Stephen; allow me to present to you 
Mr. Avaway, Mrs. Avaway, and Mr. Henry Ava- 
way.” 

The conversation became at once general. 
Emory took but little part in it. As a result of 
this, the Queen said : 

“I am afraid you’re not feeling well, or are you 
fatigued, Mr. Emberson?” 

“Since the service,” replied Emory, “I am what 
I have very seldom been — what I have never been, 
to the same extent, before — hoarse.” 

Miss Avaway did not look up from her plate; 
but Emory could feel a wave of anxiety coming 
from her. Mrs. Avaway looked sympathetic. Mr. 
Stephen grinned, not idiotically, but emptily. Mr. 
Henry paid no attention. Mr. Avaway said: 

“Thou shouldst not be surprised at that ! A 
great many, in coming to this country, are affected, 
at first, in that way. The air is very dry, and 
filled with alkali dust.” 

“Thou shouldst not discourage a new-comer, 
father! You must pay no attention to him, Mr. 
Emberson !” said Miss Avaway. 


238 


How Baldy Won 

“Thou’rt right, Martha ! In this country, you 
must listen to the young, Mr. Emberson !” said the 
older brother. 

“We’ll have to report thee to the Vigilantes !” 
said the younger brother to the father ; and to Em- 
ory, with his smile: “You’ve heard of them, haven't 
you?” 

Emory making no repty, the Queen said : 

“You must give him time to come across our 
animals !” 

“Thou dost not like them, then !” said Mr. Ava- 
way, with a laugh in which there was an opening 
of the mouth, but no mirth. 

“You mustn’t answer him, Day! James, I’m 
surprised at thy opening the way for a young girl 
to express herself on such a subject !” said Mrs. 
Avawav, with more energy than Emory would have 
expected from her. 

What struck Emory as remarkable was that 
while Mr. Avaway used the grave forms in addres- 
sing anyone, his wife and children used them only 
in addressing him, or each other. 

Here was a psychological problem. 

But he was too thoroughly taken by a person in 
the objective to give attention to anything in the 
subjective. 

The meal over, Emory should have gone directly 
to his room. 


The County Seat. 239 

Instead, he went with the Queen, the elder Ava- 
ways, and Miss Avaway to the parlor. 

There he incidentally learned something of the 
hospitality of Western people. 

The Avaway ranch was some five miles out on 
the prairie. 

The Avaways were good church people — disposed 
to be at all the services. 

It was too much to drive home after matins and 
back for evensong. 

Then there was the Sunday school, which met 
in the afternoon, and in which they were efficient 
workers. 

They were overwhelmed with invitations to Sun- 
day dinners and suppers. 

Airs. Avaway accepted them with avidity. 

She was very social — loved to chat, especially 
about church matters — was very hospitable herself 
— and had not a hint of pride in her composition. 

While, on the other hand, Mr. Avaway, though 
social, would rather be at home than anywhere else, 
though hospitable, did not like to be overrun, and 
was extremely approbative. 

He would have been cut to the quick by having 
it intimated that he was disposed to sponge. 

But he wanted to be at all the services, and to 
serve in the Sunday school. 


240 How Baldy Won 

He tried to make arrangements for stabling his 
horses and for meals for himself and family. 

But no one would take them for a consideration ; 
while everybody wanted them on the ground of 
hospitality. 

He resisted this kindly openness of disposition 
for a time. 

Then he yielded. 

And his wife and all others were happy. 

On account of his hoarseness, Emory excused 
himself from Sunday school that afternoon. 

When everybody else was gone, he w~ent to his 
room and lay down, thinking that he would get a 
nap. 

But that he could not compass. 

The mercury was quivering within him. 

While the ladies were preparing for Sunday 
school he had remained in the parlor. 

Not knowing that he was there, Miss Avaway 
had come in alone. 

When she had seen him, her eyes had dropped, 
and the blood had rushed to her neck and face. 

She had trembled. 

He had said nothing, but passed out before an- 
other entered. 

Whatever may be the case now, hospitality and 
naturalness were the distinguishing characterise 
tics of the West thirty years ago. 


The County Seat 241 

And naturalness is, of course, regardless of con- 
ventionalities. 

Of this Emory had illustration that evening. 

Wanting to not talk, he had not gone down to 
supper till he was pretty sure that the dining-room 
would be empty, and returned from there imme- 
diately to his room. 

The time approaching for church, he slipped on 
a light overcoat and started. 

Still caring to not talk, he passed the parlor 
door — which, as it opened upon the main hallway, 
he could not avoid — without glancing towards it. 

But at that moment at least two pairs of eyes 
were looking out through it— those of the Queen 
and those of Miss Avaway. 

They saw him. 

Then they scampered to the place where young 
ladies keep such things, stuck on their bonnets, 
flung on their wraps, and hurried to the street. 

Emory was trudging along, his hands in his 
overcoat pockets, his head down, thinking about 
what he was going to say in the way of a sermon, 
and wondering whether lie was likely to be able to 
say it, when he was startled by having his arms 
taken — not much startled, however; for the hands 
which were laid upon them were light. 

He glanced to the left. 

There was the Queen. 


242 How Baldy Won 

To the right. 

There was Miss Avaway. 

Smilingly, of course, he took his hands out of 
his pockets, that the young ladies might have the 
bends of his elbows more comfortably. 

The Queen looked straight into his eyes with a 
laugh. 

Miss Avaway gave him only a glance, which 
said: “Forgive me! I had to do it !” and looked 
down with a fascinating blush. 

Had he dared, Emory would have said: 

'“Don't worry ! It wouldn’t have done for you 
to not follow the lead of the Queen in this matter !” 

As it was, he simply slightly pressed Miss Ava- 
way’s hand to his side. 

This seemed to reassure her, and she joined in 
the chat, which was rather light for a clergyman 
on the way to a service — or would have been so 
considered at the East. 

Even at the West, Emory was rather thankful 
that none of the older church people heard it. 

The church was again crowded. 

Emory’s hoarseness did not trouble him much. 

When he had helped Miss Avaway into the 
family carriage, returned to the hotel with the 
Queen, and reached his room, he did not feel dis- 
satisfied with the day’s work — flattered himself, in- 


The County Seat. 243 

deed, that he had not made a bad start in his new 
parish. 

When Mr. and Mrs. Avaway found that Emory 
had known their older daughter, they were doubly 
anxious that he should come to see them. 

The very next afternoon he and the Queen were 
out for a gallop. 

When again Dollie and Baldy had carried them 
a mile or so, he asked: 

“Don’t you find it pleasant to have an objective 
point ?” 

“Yes ! Where shall we go ?” 

“You decide ! You know a good deal more 
about the country than I do !” 

“We are on the way to the Avaways !” 

“I haven’t been there yet ; I ought to call.” 

So to the Avaways they went. 

They were cordially received. 

The Avaway home was in disorder; for the 
Avaways had arrived but a few weeks before, and 
their settlement was not yet completed. 

The house upon the claim which Mr. Avaway 
had bought had but four rooms, two downstairs, 
two up. 

He had brought with him an addition, framed 
at the East, which local carpenters had just gotten 
through putting up. 

Though getting things in place was not yet com- 


244 How Baldy Won 

pleted, there was an air of refinement about the 
Avaway home — the same air which Emory had 
noticed about the Avaways themselves — especially 
about the father, the mother and the daughter — an 
air which he remembered as hovering about the 
older daughter. 

In the reigning disorder there were points of 
order. 

Crystalization had begun. 

Its points were a piano, which could be seen 
against a wall, through a confusion of furniture, 
and a bookcase, against the opposite wall, to be 
seen through an equal confusion of furniture. 

This case was particularly attractive to Emory 
from the fact that he had been away from books 
for some weeks, and he made his way towards it, 
circumventing a wire mattress and squeezing be- 
tween the detached head of a bed and a trunk to 
that end. 

“Thou shouldst have waited till I came in to 
clear a way for thee !” 

Emory turned, to see Mr. Avaway standing in a 
doorway. 

“I told thee,” said Miss Avaway, “this morning 
that thou shouldst attend to straightening out the 
things in this room at once !” 

“I wouldn’t enjoy the books nearly so much were 
there no trouble in getting at them !” said Emory. 


245 


The County Seat 

“You are too kind !” said Miss Avaway. 

Emory smiled. 

Her addressing him in the secular forms and her 
father in the grave was piquant. 

I have said that the father was the only one of 
the family who used the latter in speaking to every- 
one. I have also said that the wife and children 
used them only in addressing him or each other. 
They used the former exclusively in addressing 
any one else. 

The f psychological problem was returned to 
Emory’s mind, and so occupied it that when — after 
shaking hancls with Mr. Avaway, who immediately 
went away — he reached the bookcase he scarcely 
opened a volume which it contained, though he 
took a number of them down. 

But there might have been another reason for 
this. 

They were old, but not old enough to have been 
interesting to him hi . 1 he been more of what he 
was to some extent — a bibliomaniac; they were 
also what he found it hard to forgive in even a 
book of respectable age — sectarian. 

Among them were the Biography of Joseph 
John Gurney, The Life of Elizabeth Fry, Fox’s 
Book of Martyrs, Memoirs of the Friends. 

He making some remark on the character of the 
collection. Miss Avaway said: 


246 How Baldy Won 

“Father was reared a Quaker. But he married 
out of meeting. Mother was reared a Presby- 
terian. The Quakers didn’t want to lose father. 
He belonged to an old Quaker family. Then” — 
this in a tone of quiet pride — “because of the 
strength of his mind and the quality of his char- 
acter, he was an influence among the younger mem- 
bers of the meeting. The meeting took action in 
his case. The Elders called upon him and told 
him that if he would say that he was sorry for 
what he had done he would be forgiven. That he 
would not say !” 

Emory laughed: 

“He hadn’t been married long enough !” 

“And I believe that he wouldn’t say that he is 
sorry after all these years !” came in a low. gentle 
voice, slightly querulous. 

He turned quickly. 

Mrs. Avaway had entered in time to catch the 
drift of the conversation, and stood looking at him 
with a hurt expression — the mouth puckered, one 
eyebrow up and the other down. 

Seeing that in that presence there was no place 
for the most brilliant wit — 'much less for his leaden 
attempt at it, the only possible excuse. for which 
was that he intended it for the ears of the young 
ladies, and that any joke at the expense of matri- 
mony is acceptable to young ladies from an eligible 


The County Seat. 247 

young man, particularly from a young clergyman 
— he exclaimed : 

“I beg your pardon, Mrs. Avaway ! No- 
body ” 

Mrs. Avaway interrupted him by saying to her 
daughter : 

“Martha, thou didst not say that thy father was 
not the only one who made sacrifice that we might 
marry ! I was turned out of the Presbyterian 
Church for becoming the wife of the man of my 
choice. Thereafter we had nothing to do with 
churches till after thou wast born. Then, that 
our children might have church influences, we be- 
came Episcopalians.” 

Soon after this elucidation Mrs. Avaway went 
out to look after household affairs. 

Emory said : “I hope, Miss Avaway, your mother 
was not greatly offended at my foolish remark !” 

“Oh, no ! And even if she were she would not 
think about it again, you having made apology. 
She is the most forgiving creature in the world ! 
We often say that should one rob her and beg her 
pardon she would forgive so fully that she would 
not think of demanding the return of the goods 

He changed the subject by asking: 

“Have I been addressing you properly ?” 

“Why ?” 


248 


How Baldy Won 

“You having an older sister, I presume you 
should not be called Miss Avaway !” 

“But she’s married since you knew her !” 

The Queen laughed. 

He joined in the laugh, and said, with a pro- 
found bow : 

“Well, Miss Avaway, will you not favor us with 
a song?” 

Without making excuse, she arose, and was about 
to go to the piano, when there was a knock. 

She opened the door, and admitted a middle- 
aged man, whom she introduced as the Reverend 
Mr. McWhorton, an old acquaintance of her father, 
pastor of the Methodist Church at Centreville. 

When he had learned who Emory was, had given 
him a combative look, in shaking hands with him, 
the latter said: 

“Miss Avaway was about to favor us with a 
song !” 

“Shall be glad to hear it!” said Mr. McWhor- 
ton, as he took a chair with the manner of a man 
who is much more accustomed to sitting on the 
fence or on a bench. 

Seating herself at the piano — as self-possessed 
as she could have been had she been in conven- 
tional dress instead of in an old ‘ wrapper, of a 
sober, Quakerish color, for which she had made no 
apology, there being a fitness in it, even in the 


The County Seat. 249 

afternoon, in a house which was being brought to 
rights — she asked: 

“What shall I sing?” 

Emory asked for one of the songs which she ha d 
given at the concert — the one with which she had 
responded to the encore . 

She had not the music, without which she was 
not sufficiently familiar with it. 

Mr. McWhorton asked if she knew “When 
Johnnie Comes Marching Home!” 

Emory bit his lip, the Queen stuffed her hand- 
kerchief in her mouth with both hands, Miss Ava- 
way adjusted some music on the rack, and, after a 
moment, said : 

“Fve heard it, but I haven’t the music for that 
either !” 

“Then let’s have just anything !” said Mr. Mc- 
Whorton, with a look which showed that he had a 
vague consciousness of having made some sort of 
“a break.” 

“That’s wise !” said Emory. “Please make your 
own selection, Miss Avaway !” 

“Sing ‘Under the Daisies,’ ” said the Queen. 

This exquisite song was then comparatively new. 

Emory had never heard it. 

To its sweet, regretful, hopeless, yet resigned 
pathos, the voice of the singer was exactly suited, 
as perfectly as the tune is to the words.. 


250 


How Baldy Won 

When the song was finished, Emory remained 
under its spell, till the Queen said: 

“You sing, don’t you, Mr. Emberson?” 

“No; I can appreciate music ” 

“I notice !” 

“But I can’t produce it.” 

“That’s my fix !” said Mr. McWhorton. 

“But you can certainly sing Sunday School 
music, Mr. McWhorton !” said Miss Avaway. 

“A little,” answered the Methodist divine, as he 
drew from his pocket a Moody and Sankey hymn- 
book. “Maybe I’d better say, I can join in !” 

Emory said: “I can join in, too, a little, in that 
sort of music !” 

“Isn’t it a good sort?” asked Mr. McWhorton, 
argumentatively. 

“Oh, yes !” answered Emory, as he took the book 
from him and started with it towards Miss Ava- 
way. 

When they had sung “Pull for the Shore,” “In 
the Sweet By and By,” and “Nothing but Leaves,” 
Mr. McWhorton said, wiping his brow: 

“Well, I call that good hollerin’, if it a’n’t the 
best o’ singin’ !” 

At this point Mrs. Avaway appeared and invited 
the party to supper. 

Night was closing in as the Queen and Emory 
galloped back to town. 


The County Seat. 


251 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

FLOATING ISLAND. 

During a number of weeks after this, the dis- 
position to wander which was inherent in Emory — 
and for which journalism is not a sovereign remedy 
— would return now and again. 

Neither Kansas City or Denver was far away, 
and he knew that he could go at any time to either 
of them and take a position on the staff of a daily. 

He had more than once to fight desperately the 
inclination to do so — though he might have been 
aware — were not a certain little immortal blind in 
more regards than one — that there was an attrac- 
tion in the neighborhood of Breezemead which 
would probably bring him back on the next train. 

What first helped him in this fight was the dis- 
position to see the county seat conflict ended — 
which involved his determination that no unneces- 
sary harm should come to Editor Walker. 

Then he was interested in Baldy — to see whom 


252 How Baldy Won 

he made frequent visits to the Biley stables — 
upon whom he took an almost daily gallop — who 
had come to know, first his voice, then his step — 
who would whinny at his approach, and manifest 
great joy when he mounted. 

But there was another person in Crowley County 
in whom he was much more interested than in 
either Baldy or Editor Walker. 

Still the battle was severe. 

As a relief he would often walk to a pair of 
mounds, of which mention has been already made 
— The Twins — among the finest specimens of their 
kind, with which the face of the whole country is 
dotted — terraced elevations — each terrace indicat- 
ing a stage at which the waters stopped, as they, 
in the course of the ages, receded, leaving w r hat 
had been an archipelago a plain. 

The trail to the Avaway ranch led between The 
Twins. 

As — in lay attire; for clericals were even less 
suited to either riding or footing it in this coun- 
try than at the East — he stood on the summit of 
the northern of them one morning, he — shall I say 
accidentally? — was faced in the direction of that 
ranch. 

He could not see it ; but distinctly in sight, about 
four miles away, was one of those little, white, 
frame buildings, w T ith which the West was sprin- 


The County Seat. 


253 


kled even thirty years ago — one of those school- 
houses which sprang up as soon as the school-dis- 
trict was marked off on the map. 

In all other sections of America the school- 
house has come when there were enough children 
to demand it ; but at the West it was built in con- 
fidence that they would come — in the feeling that 
the Government is not responsible for their coming, 
but only for their education when they do come — 
as they are more sure to do there than anywhere 
else. 

Seeing this school-house, he remembered — as he 
held on his hat with one hand, and tried alternate- 
ly to keep his coat from blowing off and the ends 
of his cravat from tickling his chin and cheeks till 
they bled — that it stood on a high undulation 
which looks down into a valley in which the ranch 
lay, and yielded to an attraction. 

At the end of an hour and a quarter’s brisk walk, 
he found Mr. Avaway and the boys in the corral. 

Though it was not they whom he had come to 
see, and though he was nervously anxious to knock 
at the door of the house, he could not well avoid 
stopping and talking with them a little. 

But he left them as soon as courtesy would allow. 

He had scarcely knocked at the door when it was 
opened by Miss Martha. 

Pouting divinely, she said: 


254 How Baldy Won 

“You seemed to have a great deal to say to the 
men !” 

“Yon were looking for me, then ?” 

“How could I help seeing you when I was look- 
ing out of the window towards town?” 

“When did you first see me?” 

“When you were coming by the school-house.” 

“You must have good eyes to know one at that 
distance !” 

“I always know you when you appear on the 
brow of the hill !” 

“How?” 

“By your horse’s white face when you are riding, 
and by your white shirt-front when you are walk- 
ing 

Some days later, Doctor Gray drove up to the 
Adnogal House, called for Mr. Emberson, and, 
upon that gentleman’s appearing, asked him if he 
would not like to take a drive of some twenty miles 
over the prairies — the doctor having patients at a 
much greater distance than that from home. 

They were returning when Emory spoke of the 
hoarseness from which he had suffered somewhat 
in the course of his first Sunday in Breezemead, 
and which had inconvenienced him increasingly 
since. 

“Don’t worry about that !” said the doctor. 
“Almost everybody suffers more or less from it in 


255 


The County Seat. 

this country. It may be because they live more in 
the open air than they did at the East, or — if that 
isn’t so — because of the constant winds which are 
blowing from the Gulf, or back to the Gulf, or at 
right angles to the line of this current and coun- 
ter-current. I sometimes think that the Gulf is 
blamed too much as a factor in the production of 
our winds. The fact is that we are in a great open 
region, extending from the Gulf to the Arctic cir- 
cle and from the Appalachian to the Rocky Moun- 
tains. There is nothing to prevent the winds from 
blowing, and they blow ! And they bear an im- 
palpable alkali dust. Their wings are covered with 
it. Then we are on the hem of the skirt of a des- 
ert which reaches to the Pacific Ocean. Through 
many months of the year our days are dry and hot, 
and our nights damp and cool. You may have 
noticed how a chill crawls over the prairies at 
sunset, and there comes a white vapor in all the 
depressions, ghostly enough to make one shudder 
when the moon shines brightly, which she always 
does when her position is such that she can. 
Everybody should go indoors as soon as evening 
begins to fall, or — if he is compelled to be out — 
bundle himself with wraps— to neither of which 
self-protections anybody pays attention. So, is it 
any wonder that one meets so many people with 
husky voices?” 


256 


How Baldy Won 

"Maybe, after all,” said Emory, with a smile, "a 
change of climate would be good for me !” 

The doctor smiled back, and said: 

“No need o' that now ! Avoid high winds as 
much as possible, stay in out 0’ the night, and raise 
a beard !” 

At the last of these suggestions Emory laughed, 
saying: 

“I’m rather prejudiced against a clergyman’s 
having a beard !” 

“Psha !” said the doctor. “The Roman Catho- 
lic priest here got a dispensation, at my sug- 
gestion, that nature might be allowed to have her 
way with regard to hair on his face !” 

Emory laughed again, and said: 

“At the East I was accused of having a tend- 
ency towards Rome because of my cleanly shaven 
face ! Did I raise a beard here, I might be accused 
of the same tendency for the opposite reason ! 
Someone would be sure to say that I had, at least, 
been influenced by the example of a Roman !” 

“Well,” growled the doctor, “if you are willing 
that your voice should be ruined by the cackle of 
old women in petticoats or trousers, I have noth- 
ing more to say !” 

After having so expressed himself, he rose to a 
standing position, steadied himself with the lines, 
shaded his eyes with his free hand, and, when he 


The County Seat 257 

had looked to the southwest for a minute or so, 
said : 

“I thought I'd be able to see it from here ! ” 
“What ?” 

“The lone tree.” 

What was now the Avaway ranch, had been 
known from the first settlement of the Butternut 
Valley as The Lone Tree Claim, from the only 
tree at that time for miles about, which grows in 
the elbow of a little stream, known as Badger 
Creek, which runs across its southwest corner— the 
few roods of land in this elbow being marshy and 
the curving banks of the stream high, which had 
protected the shoot which had become a tree from 
the prairie fires, had it not been for which the 
whole region would have been covered with trees, 
as is manifest from the thriving of those which 
were planted by early settlers, which now dissect 
it in rows and dot it singly and in groves, as well 
as by those which have sprung up from accidental 
sowing, such as that of birds. 

Emory was a transparent fellow. 

At the lightening of his eyes, the doctor, without 
another word, cut across the prairies, and made 
directly for The Lone Tree Claim, was silent till 
it was reached, then pulled up, cranked a wheel, 
and when Emory had gotten out, drove on, with- 
out so much as saying good-bye. 


258 



How Baldy Won 

Had the fact that he had had, soon after the ar- 
rival of the new rector of St. John, a young sister 
come on a visit to him anything to do with this? 

Such an idea had not entered Emory’s head 

He gone, Emory approached the house. 

There was immediate response to his knock. 

From the fact that there was more earnestness 
than genuineness in the expressions of surprise 
which his advent brought forth, it may be inferred 
that unannounced visits from him were not un- 
usual at The Lone Tree Claim. 

But there were not many to be surprised to-day. 

Mr. and Mrs. Avaway were in town, and the 
boys were away fifteen miles or so for the day at 
Silver Creek for a load of wood. 

The only ones at home were Miss Martha and 
an old servant, whom Emory, in passing through 
the corral, had seen, through an open door, in the 
kitchen, ironing. 

He would have been more than human had he 
regretted this. 

Miss Martha asked him if he had had dinner. 

He told her no — though it was then three o’clock 
in the afternoon ; and explained that they had been 
between the homes of two of Doctor Gray’s patients 
at the dinner hour. 

“I am glad of it !” said Miss Martha. "It will 
give you a chance to see how good a cook I am !” 


*59 


The County Seat 

"You cook !” laughed Emory. "Anyone who 
can sing as well as you can oughtn’t to be able to 
do anything else !” 

"But I can !” — with a pretty blush. "Let me 
see ! — what can I get for you ? Do you like floating- 
island ?” 

Suppressing a smile at the absurdity of asking 
at that hour a robust young fellow, who had not 
had anything to eat since breakfast, and who since 
then had been riding in the most appetizing wind 
in the world — that which is not saying too much 
for the air of the Great American Desert, especially 
when it is moving violently, as it had been all the 
time that the doctor and Emory had been out, 
whoever has spent a day in it will testify — he said: 

"Yes, if there isn’t too much float and a good 
deal of island !” 

"You didn’t suppose that I proposed to give you 
nothing but floating-island, did you?” asked Miss 
Martha with an injured look. 

"I am relieved !” sighed Emory. 

The meal was an excellent one. 

The body of it was flaky bread, sweet butter, 
boiled eggs — they must have been warm from the 
nest when put in the water — and luscious ham, 
which could not have been improved by boiling in 
champagne. 

But there is no pot of ointment without its fly. 


260 


How Baldy Won 

When he was taking his cigar, Miss Martha came 
to him with a flushed face, and asked : 

“Why did you eat that floating-island?” 

He laughed, with a brutality which was really 
a kindness: 

“I didn't eat any more than politeness conn 
pelled! But don’t feel bad! It would have been 
excellent hadn’t the milk been sour !” 

“I’m so sorry ! But I got in the wrong pan !” 

“It doesn’t matter in the least ! The substantiate 
were what I cared for, and no living person could 
have cooked them better than you did — that is” — 
with a look of suspicion — “if you cooked them.” 

“You know I did !” 

“How do I know ? You may have been ironing 
while somebody else was cooking !” 

“But I wasn’t ! And what you say doesn’t worry 
me one hit ! All that worries me is the failure of 
that floating-island !” 

“That needn’t worry you ! My stomach isn’t 
easily soured !” 

At this they both laughed, and Miss Martha ex- 
cused herself, saying: 

“I must hurry and clear off the things!” 

She returned in so incredibly short a time that 
Emory declared that instead of washing the dishes 
she must have “salted them down.” 


26 i 


The County Seat. 

At this she insisted that he should go to the 
kitchen with her. 

He did so, and confessed that he was mistaken. 
"Though, of course/ 5 he added, "these may he other 
dishes !” 

Thus the two spent the remainder of the after- 
noon in that delightful persiflage of which only 
two young people who are innocent, and love each 
other, and have not confessed it, are capable. 


362 


How Baldy Won 


CHAPTER XIX. 

A CHARGE OK BALDY. 

Having let the reader into the secret of the 
state of Emory’s mind with regard to Miss 
Martha, and that of the state of Miss Martha’s 
mind with regard to Emory, I need not tell her — I 
might think differently were the reader whom I 
have imagined of the duller sex — that Emory — • 
taking into the account his hoarseness — when din- 
ner was over, the dishes washed, and his second 
cigar smoked, did not leave The Lone Tree Claim 
soon enough. 

He remembered Doctor Gray’s advice as to the 
advisability of his not being out after the sun 
went down; but he said to himself that he could, 
at least, keep warm, walking. 

This, I fear, was only an excuse, however. I 
doubt if he would have left sooner had Baldy been 
awaiting him, saddled, and pawing with im- 


The County Seat. 263 

patience in the corral, or so soon, had it not been 
that there was to be a Committee Meeting. 

And who will blame him? 

Certainly not the female reader. 

The male reader may; but, if he does, it will 
be to disguise the fact that he would have tarried 
under the circumstances at any hazard. 

For when are all earthly things so sublimated 
and fused in perfect happiness as when two young 
folk of opposite sex are in positive soul-accord? 

As is natural for the male to do in such cir- 
cumstances, Emory did most of the talking. 

He spoke of what he had been told of the father 
whom he had never known, of the mother, of the 
school, college and university lives, of his wander- 
ings and successes as a journalist, of his battles 
and why he had fought them. 

Miss Martha’s eyes were wide in hero-worship, 
when he told of how he had struck out, at home, 
for the girl who had no one else to take her part. 
He referred modestly to what he had done in 
literature, as well as to what he hoped to do. 

He blushed in admitting that now and then he 
wrote poetry. 

He stuttered in saying that, as he rode home 
with the Queen, in returning from his hrst visit 
to The Lone Tree Claim, as twilight deepened into 
night, as the stars began to appear, a poem had 


2 64 


How Baldy Won 

come to him. which he wrote out before he went to 
bed. 

“Can you repeat it?” asked Miss Martha, in a 
low tone, wdth eyes downcast. 

“Y o,” said Emory. “I can never repeat any- 
thing from memory. But let me see ! I may have 
a rough draft of it in my passbook !” 

Taking the book from his pocket, he leafed it 
for a moment, then said: 

“Yes ; here it is !” and read : 

“Just after the sun had retired him to rest , 

To his gorgeously curtained couch in the west, 

I saw , from some mysterious where, 

A star appear in the upper air ; 

And the night-winds sighed, as they murmured: 
( Alone r 

But they joyously laughed, clapped their hands 
in my face, 

As another star came, and toolc by him her place; 
And together they're reigning, and greater by far , 
In union, than either could be as a star !” 

The reading ended, he did not look up for a 
moment. 

When he did, he caught the dark gray eyes of 
Miss Martha, as they left his face. 

They were full of intelligence. 


265 


The County Seat. 

She was very pale. 

He took her hand. 

She did not draw it. away. 

But he dropped it; for the knob of a dooB 
turned. 

Mrs. Avaway entered. 

The very air would have revealed to anyone else 
how things stood; but she was the most unsus- 
picious person who has ever lived. 

With an “Oh !” — indicating fatigue — she 
dropped into a chair, untying the strings of her 
bonnet. 

Miss Martha said: 

“Mr. Ember son, mother !” 

As Emory came forward from the shade of the 
curtain in which he had been sitting, Mrs. Ava- 
way emitted another: “Oh!” 

Then Miss Martha: 

“Thou’rt tired, mother! Where’s father?” 

“He let me out at The Tree, and went on some 
business with a neighbor.” 

Soon, making some remark about the necessity 
of preparing for supper. Miss Martha excused her- 
self. 

When she returned — as she did too soon to have 
made much preparation for anything — Emory 
said : 

“It’s about time I were going!” 


"1 


266 How Baldy Won 

“Won’t yon stay for supper?” asked Mrs. Ava- 
way. 

“No, thank yon; it’s too short a time since I 
had a dinner of — floating-island!” 

“That’s real mean !” pouted Martha, and told 
her mother about Mr. Emberson’s unexpected ar- 
rival after her dinner was concluded, and of the 
accident of her getting into the wrong can of 
milk. 

When Mrs. Avaway had laughed a peculiar 
laugh, which was rather a cackle, in which there 
was not the slightest indication that she saw the 
funny side of what had been related to her, Emory 
rose, took his hat, and was about to go. 

But she detained him, saying: 

“The boys will soon be here, and I would like 
to have you become acquainted with them ! They 
like you and your preaching. Before you came 
we had a great deal of trouble in getting them to 
go to church. They are forming new associations, 
and I would like to have them of the right kind V 9 

She thought it was this appeal to his profes- 
sional responsibility which caused him to put 
down his hat and reseat himself. 

I would not say that that appeal had not some- 
thing to do with causing these actions, but I am 
disposed to think that a glance from Miss Martha 
had more effect in that direction. 


2&7 


The County Seat. 

That they pleased her was evident. 

She said: 

“I, too, would like very much to have you and 
Henry and Stephen become acquainted !” 

Was there in this desire more than sisterly so- 
licitude ? 

What woman is there who does not want her 
men folk to know and like the man for whom she 
cares the most? 

“But,” she added — looking at Emory with an 
anxiety which caused his pulse to beat more 
quickly — he having said in the course of the after- 
noon a good deal about his hoarseness which was 
worrying him greatly — “ought you to be out in 
the night air?” 

“It is so late now,” he replied, “that I would be 
out in it somewhat did I start at once. Then it 
seems to me that it should not hurt me much, 
walking.” 

“Walking!” exclaimed Mrs. Avaway. “The 
boys will take you home ! They'll be here by a 
little after sundown !” 

“Thank you !” said Emory ; “but were they here 
now I would have less reason for refusing to allow 
them to do so than Ell have later; for the doctor 
has warned me against the night air — which I 
am sure he would think more likely to injure me 
riding than afoot !” 


268 How Baldy Won 

So Emory stayed, met the boys in the corral 
when they drove in with their load of wood; ate 
more supper than he would have thought it possi- 
ble for him to dispose of after so late and hearty 
a dinner — more than it would have been possible, 
under the circumstance, to compass in any other 
country; and, resisting the importunities of the 
boys that they be allowed to drive him home, 
started, an hour after sunset, to walk to Breeze- 
mead. 

He was a good walker; but he did not walk 
rapidly that evening. 

He had much to think — or to dream — about, as, 
his hands in his pockets, he moved slowly along 
the trail. 

Excepting that the stars — which appeared to be 
much nearer than in any other sky into which he 
had ever looked — were shining brightly and mul- 
titudinously, the night was very dark. 

He was so absent-minded that, in crossing a 
slough, he, in the dim starlight, mistook a pud- 
dle for a stone, stepped into it, and went up to his 
hip in black mud. 

This dispelled his dreams — knocked all the sen- 
timentality out of him. 

What did he say when he reached firm ground? 
— which he did at a step — one of the peculiarities 
of a Southwestern slough being that it begins and 


269 


The County Seat. 

ends abruptly — one goes from its bank as im- 
mediately as your paper-weight falls from the edge 
of your table. 

What did he say? 

Only the stillness of the prairie heard, and it 
has never given up the secret. 

But in a moment his attention was taken as 
suddenly from his wet foot and leg and ruined 
trousers as the puddle had taken it from his 
dreams. 

A wagon driven furiously came rattling towards 
him, accompanied by the clatter of the feet of 
many more horses than were necessary to draw it. 

“There must be a large company of mounted 
men with the wagon V 9 he thought as he stepped 
off the trail, and threw himself down in the tall 
prairie grass. 

The land descended to the slough from both 
the east and the west. 

The wagon and its escort were approaching 
from the latter direction — the driver and the rid- 
ers dimly silhouetted against the dark, starry sky. 

He could not be exactly certain — and he had 
not much time for deliberation, for it did not 
take them long, at the rate at which they were 
moving, to descend below the horizon — but he 
thought he recognized the Beverend Mr. Mc- 
Whorton on the wagon seat. 


270 


How Baldy Won 

And it seemed to him that one of the riders 
looked like Editor Walker. 

They acted like retreating raiders — a class of 
warriors with which he— from what he had seen, 
when a small boy, of the Civil War — was fa- 
miliar. 

They had been successful in some foray. 

Half a dozen of the horses bore two men each 
— the hinder bound and secured to the one in 
front. 

What was in the wagon? 

He would have given a good deal to know; but 
he thought he could guess. 

As the company approached — the horsemen 
spreading out considerably — he crawled off far- 
ther in the grass — in the fear that he might be 
ridden upon, and discovered, if not injured. 

As the wagon neared the ford it slowed up. 

The escort, of course, did the same. 

This gave him a chance to hear the remarks 
which were dropped. 

One said : 

“The night was well chosen. Were it stormy 
they would have been on their guard.” 

Said another: 

“Walker, you are a good un’ ! Had the rest of 
us had our way we couldn’t ’ve succeeded any 
better. And it seems to me that it was a mighty 


271 


The County Seat. 

bright idea of yours — that of goin’ early in the 
evenin’ ! They might have been lookin’ for us 
in the night or towards mornin’. But who would 
expect the enemy to come on him when the twi- 
light was not much more than gone !” 

Another laughed : 

“They hadn’t yet taken their posts ! They were 
standin’ together ! We would have had no less 
t rouble in taking them had they been so many 
sheep !” 

Another remarked: 

“The safes were heavier than I thought they’d 
be !” 

“But come, men, hurry oni I know the men 
back of us ! They’ll be after us like a pack of 
devils before long !” said a voice which the listener 
knew to be that of Editor Walker. 

Once across the ford they moved on as furiously 
as ever. 

Waiting for the rearguard of two to be passed, 
Emory sought the trail, and made for Breeze- 
mead at top speed. 

The slough was not more than a quarter of a 
mile east of The Twins — not more than three- 
quarters of a mile from the court house. 

His objective point was the Adnogal House. 

As he rushed by the former, though it was 


272 How Baldy Won 

lighted as usual, he saw no one about it, and no 
sound came from it. 

Was it his knowledge of the descent which had 
been made upon it that made it appear so de- 
serted ? 

Near the Adnogal House he came to a walk. 

He quietly entered, passed up the stairway un- 
noticed, and went immediately to the Committee 
Boom. 

To his knocking in a certain way, the door of 
this room opened. 

As he entered, Mr. Bynson, with his most me- 
chanical smile, was saying something about the 
advisability of increasing the guard over the 
county records. 

Emory said quietly: 

“Right ! Lock the stable door with care — 
doubly lock it — after the horse is stolen !” 

Everybody looked at him, saw his wet, muddy, 
disheveled and blown condition, felt that he had 
something to say, and waited anxiously. 

When he had spoken a few words, the Commit- 
tee dispersed without adjournment, with the un- 
derstanding that they were to meet as soon as the} 
could mount, at the court house — to be there in 
ten minutes — with as many others as they could 
bring. 

Nobody would be waited for. 


The County Seat. 273 

As lie sprang down the stairway with Squire 
Riley, he asked : 

“Can I have Baldy?” 

“Nobody else wants the black devil !” responded 
the Squire — on whom the joke had been going 
about for some days that, seeing how tractable 
Baldy was to Emory, he had mounted him — to be 
run away w T ith and unseated. “But you must 
saddle him yourself ! It takes three men to do 
it, and they can't be spared now ! They must be 
saddling horses for themselves!” 

The ten minutes up, a company of fifty horse- 
men were flying through the darkness to the east- 
ward — Emory at their head — Baldy snorting, and 
sending the trail behind him as if the Squire had 
rightly named him. 

There is one thing upon which the Western man 
prides himself more than upon his “gun” or his 
“deal,” and that is his horse. 

And the ranchman or the clerk in that region 
is better mounted than is the millionaire at the 
East taking his outing in the park — better mount- 
ed for his purpose. 

The millionaire’s horse cost more, but it has not 
the bottom of that of the most meanly mounted 
Westerner. 

Emory was ahead for two reasons. 

In the first place, the information which he had 


274 How Baldy Won 

brought being the cause of the expedition, he was 
tacitly the leader, and no one would have any 
more thought of dissenting from his leadership 
than if the company at the head of which he rode 
had been a troop of regular cavalry and he the 
ranking officer, and had anyone dissented, the re- 
volvers of all others could have been counted upon 
to bring him to his senses. 

And, in the second place, there was no horse 
in the new Southwest of which Baldy would not 
have been ahead in a race. 

And this was a race — a race for the county seat- 
ship — for the material prosperity of Breezemead 
— for its honor — a race to overtake the Centre- 
villi ans — a race of every horseman with every 
other horseman and with the company. 

There was but one superior mount. 

So the company kept well bunched behind its 
leader. 

I doubt if there is a horseman, or a horse, any- 
where out of the West, who could stand for thirty 
minutes the killing pace at which the company 
went — each man riding with a loose rein; for the 
trail could not be seen in the darkness and the 
horse had to be trusted. 

Because of the wagon, heavily laden with the 
purloined safes, the Centrevillians could not, of 
course, travel as rapidly as the Breezemeadians, 


The County Seat. 275 

but, considering their impediment, they were mak- 
ing wonderfully good time. 

As Centreville was approached, theil* pursuers 
began to despair of overtaking them. 

Emory was far enough in advance to be not 
deafened by the pounding of the feet of his com- 
pany’s horses, and caught the rattle of the re- 
treating wagon, the driver’s voice in urging on his 
team, and the commands of the raider’s leader. 

At length he heard: 

“Halt !” 

The wagon kept on. 

As he had been out most of the time since the 
sun went down, his eyes were hot unaccustomed to 
the darkness; so he soon saw — what he probably 
otherwise would have been unable to see — at about 
a hundred yards ahead, a line of horsemen across 
the trail. 

The opposing leader had evidently determined 
to make a stand and cover the retreat of the 
wagon. 

It would not do to be stopped then ! 

So Emory spoke to Baldv, and pulled gently on 
his reins. 

Baldy understood, and slackened his pace. 

When Hugh and Dick and Doctor Gray were 
abreast of him — the rest of the Vigilantes were to 
the rear — Mr. Bynson and Mr. No thy m, for in- 


276 


How Baldy Won 

stance, being, by nature, fitted rather for council 
than for action — Emory cried: 

“The spurs ! — charge !” 

If Baldy, the first time Emory mounted him, 
darted from the stable door as a stone from a 
catapult, he now shot ahead as a ball from a can- 
non. 

Emory leaned forward with a rather unclerical 
jell. 

And it was fortunate that he did so; else our 
history would have to stop right here; for a ball 
which went through the brim of his hat at the 
rear would have gone through his head had he sat 
upright in his saddle. 

Other balls zipped about him. 

But in a second he was through the line — one 
horse and rider having gone over from Baldy’s im- 
pact, and a saddle having been emptied by 
the touch of the butt of Emory’s revolver on the 
forehead of the one who had occupied it. 

Glancing back, he saw that Hugh and Dick 
had each felled his man and that Doctor Gray 
was in close fight with another with good pros- 
pect of mastering him. 

Everybody seemed to be governed by the spirit 
of these four — disposed to win but to not un- 
necessarily take life. 


The County Seat. 277 

The Western man of that time was a great 
boy. 

He loved horse-play — he was passionately fond 
of a fight — but he would a little rather not kill 
another, if he could help it just as well as not. 

The glance back showed that the Centrevillians 
were completely broken. 

Those who could were making off under the 
cover of the darkness, some still mounted, most 
afoot. 

Emory then turned his attention to the wagon. 

It had gotten a considerable distance away. 

The driver was standing up and whipping his 
horses to the utmost possible speed. 

Dashing after him, Emory soon overtook him. 

He yielded at once, saying: 

“Fm no hog ! I know when I’ve got enough 

“Very well !” with a laugh. “Hands up !” 

“Can’t; I’m drivin’ !” 

“Whoa !” The team was glad enough to come 
to a stop. “Xow, up with your hands !” 

The driver obeyed. 

Emory disarmed him, and said: 

“Turn your team about !” 

This he did reluctantly, and the return trip to 
Breezemead was begun. 

When those of the Centrevillians who had not 


278 How Baldy Won 

escaped in the darkness were disarmed, they were 
allowed to go. 

This was as true of the driver as of anybody 
else — the lines being taken from him by a 
Breezemcadian whose horse had been disabled in 
the melee. 

The return was slow; by the time the safes 
were replaced in the court house it was long after 
midnight. 

Even the roughest of the rough-riders who had 
galloped after Emory was glad enough to go home. 

As to Emory himself, the excitement had ab- 
sorbed him. It was not till he got to his room 
that, from the time he started on the run from 
the ford, he was aware of the miry and soaked 
state of his right foot and leg to the hip. 


The County Seat. 


279 


CHAPTER XX. 

THE DESTRUCTION OE A NOTE. 

He was restless after retiring. 

He rose early. 

His bath did not invigorate him; fresh under- 
wear irritated him; the eup of coffee, for which 
he descended to the dining-room — a cup of any- 
thing had, up to then, never been served in his 
room to a guest who was not known to be ill at the 
Adnogal House — did not taste good. 

It would not have tasted good had it been the 
best cup of coffee that had ever been boiled — - 
which it was not. 

It was not only strong — being a Southerner, he 
liked strong coffee — it was rank. 

A few grains of good coffee may have gotten 
beyond the Mississippi thirty years ago. If so, he 
never had any evidence of the occurrence. 

The cup under attention nauseated him — which 
it is only fair to say, in the interest of its quality, 
a similar cup had never done before. 


28 o 


How Baldy Won 

His head ached; there was a bad taste in his 
mouth; his throat was dry; he was cold and ut- 
terly miserable. 

Upon returning to his room — which he did at 
once — he threw himself upon his bed. 

A chill came on; the hours went by; the chill 
was followed by a burning fever. 

He did not appear at dinner. 

There was evidently not much thought of this. 

Still the Queen and her court missed him. 

It may be I would better say they missed his 
wit and repartee. 

For the West then was very different from the 
East, and, possibly, from the West of to-day — in 
that, in the cracking of jokes, nobody spared any- 
body, and nobody was ever angered by what any- 
body said, or — which may be nearer the truth — 
ever showed anger. 

One had to be ready to take care of himself — 
with his revolver on occasion, with his tongue con- 
stantly. 

It has been seen that there was need that he be 
quick with his "gun." 

But this need was not always upon him as it 
was that he be quick with his tongue. 

Emory’s not appearing at supper caused com- 
ment and question. 

The Queen was anxious. 


The County Seat. 281 

She hunted up her father. 

He had not seen the one who now had become, 
easily, his principal guest. 

The clerk had not seen him. 

The same was true of the hall-boy. 

Nobody had seen him since his coming into the 
dining-room, just as the door opened for break- 
fast, and calling for the cup of coffee which he 
did not drink. 

The chambermaid reported that she had not 
been able to get into his room to do it up. 

Mr. Gurnsey went himself, opened his door with 
a pass-key, and found him unable to either rise or 
speak aloud. 

Doctor Gray was sent for at once. 

Two weeks later there was a knock at his door. 

To this knock Doctor Gray— who was making 
the second of his three daily calls — responded. 

When he opened, he received from the hall-boy 
a note for the invalid, who found it to be from 
the Queen and Miss Avaway. • 

They wanted to know when they might call. 

lie handed it to the doctor, who, having glanced 
at it, said: 

“Now P 

Emory shook his head, put his hand to his chin 
and cheek, and whispered : 

“Not till Eye seen a barber P 


282 


How Baldy Won 

“Seen a barber !” said the doctor. “If } r ou have 
a friend who is a barber, I have no objection to 
vonr seeing him; but if you have any thought of 
being shaven, you might as well understand now 
that that cannot be ! When your voice re- 
turns ” 

“Which it will have done ” 

“In two months!” was the answer, accompanied 
by a most pronounced snicker, which would have 
caused Emory to think that his misfortune was 
highly enjoyed, had he not by this time come to 
know the snickerer pretty well, and to under- 
stand that it was rather idiosyncratic than indic- 
ative of character — that, at most, it indicated not 
more enjoyment of a patient’s suffering than was 
necessary to steadiness and resolution in render- 
ing relief. 

“Am I to spend two months in this miserable, 
stuffy, little room?” asked the sick man, petu- 
lantly, in a hoarse whisper. 

“There!” said the doctor, severely, but raising 
his eyebrows, to show that he was not angry, but 
thoughtful of the patient’s interest. “How often 
must I tell you to not try to use your voice ! I 
have said nothing about your staying in this room 
for two months, have I?” 

Emory shook his head. 

With his most pronounced snicker — this seemed 


The County Seat. 283 

to be his only way of laughing — the doctor con- 
tinued : 

“I think that what you need is a change of cli- 
mate !” 

To Emory’s look of disappointment, he said: 

“I don’t mean a permanent change !” 

“And I can’t afford any other sort!” whispered 
Emory — without fear of a reprimand ; for the 
doctor did not object to his whispering — so long 
as he did not bring the vocal cords into play. 

“But we can ! Breezemead owes you a good 
deal; and we are disposed to pay something on 
account !” 

At this, the doctor placed a fat purse in Emory’s 
hand, and went on : 

“You are to go off, and not return till every 
cent of that is spent ! And you can’t spend it in 
less than ten or twelve weeks — unless you indulge 
in some rather unclerical pleasures — which 
wouldn’t be good for your voice ! I give you the 
purse on two conditions — that you spend its con- 
tents, and that you do not shave till you get back! 
Then you'll find that reasonable exposure and a lit- 
tle alkali dust will not hurt you, and won’t want to 
shave ! Good-bye !” 

And he was off — turning, as he passed through 
the door, to say: 

“i’ll send the young ladies right up !” 


284 


How Baldy Won 

When they entered they found Emory where the 
doctor had left him — in an easy-chair, wrapped 
in blankets. 

They had evidently been warned against making 
the patient talk, for, as they entered, the Queen 
said : 

“You’re not to say a word ! We’re to do all the 
talking!” and began rattling away about Dollie 
and Baldy. 

Concerning the latter she said: 

“You must soon get out in pity for him ! His 
ankles are swelling from standing in the stall. 
His temper is growing worse and worse. He was 
never known to buck till you were housed up. 
That he now does, and lies down, and rolls over, 
and falls backwards — has every bad trick that 
horse was ever known to have. He has certainly 
recognized you as master, and will have nothing 
to do with any other man, but to hurt him !” 

The horseman who would have been so sorry 
for those who had been hurt as to not laugh with 
pleasure at this tribute to his skill and magnetism, 
as well as to his horse’s intelligence and faithful- 
ness, would have been more of a Christian than 
Emory. 

As the Queen rattled on, about horses, about the 
court, about the church, about whatever happened 


The County Seat 285 

to pop into her little head, Miss Avaway smiled 
and said nothing. 

But there was power in her silence. There was 
a world of woman in her. A sweet thrill went 
through Emory every time he caught her eye. 

He whispered that he was sorry that he had not 
an instrument in the room, that he might ask her 
to sing — at which they all laughed, for the room 
was not much larger than a good-sized piano. 

The Queen said: 

“That doesn't matter ! She is independent of 
instruments ! I like her unaccompanied singing 
the better !” 

“What shall I sing?” asked the subject of the 
compliment — in a tone which showed that she saw 
that she would have to sing something, and was 
feeling that the sooner she got at it the sooner it 
would be over. 

“ ‘Under the Daisies/” suggested the Queen. 

“Ho !” whispered Emory, “that would be too 
suggestive in my present condition !” 

When the rather constrained titter which this 
remark brought from the young ladies was ended. 
Miss Avaway sang “Warrior Bold,” so exquisitely, 
so intelligently, with such an appreciation of the 
martial spirit, and with such an avoidance of 
Emory’s eyes that he could not but wonder wheth- 


286 


How Balay Won 

er it was intended as a compliment to his recent 
exploit Centerville way. 

What talking upon the part of the Queen, or 
what singing upon the part of Miss Avaway might 
have followed I do not know; what I do know is 
that at this point the door opened abruptly, that 
Doctor Gray entered, and that he said — though 
with a raising rather than with a lowering of his 
eyebrows : 

“Young ladies, didn’t I tell you that you 
mustn’t stay too long !” 

“Have we?” asked the Queen. 

“You’ve been here more than an hour!” 

“And do you call that too long?” 

“I’ve heard of young ladies liking a young 
clergyman well enough to eat him; heard of ’em 
often; but they generally prefer him alive!” 

“You horrid creature !” 

“Out o’ here !” 

And out they went, to the accompaniment of a 
snicker 

When, a week later, the Wliackston stage left 
the Adnogal House, Emory was a passenger. 

The King of the road was on the box, of course ; 
but, much to his grief, Emory did not sit beside 
him. 

The convalescent was not yet strong enough for 
that. 


28; 


The County Seat. 

He made the trip within, on the back seat, cush- 
ions under and about him, enswathed in all sorta 

of wraps. 

Before the King mounted the box, he gave, to 
the chagrin of the Queen and Miss Avaway, the 
last touches to his charge’s comfort, saying: 

“1 hope you’ll be able to take your old place 
on the return trip !” 

Emory thanked him, and settled his mind — the 
only thing that he found it necessary to do for 
himself — to the long ride. 

The stage was two hours late at Whackston. 

When asked why, the King replied, with a wink 
at Emory, whom he was aiding out of his impedi- 
menta : 

‘‘The nigh wheeler busted a hame-string, the otf 
leader cast a shoe, I broke a doubletree, and lost 
a tire!” — four falsehoods in one breath, which 
was not a long one, perfectly calm, and followed 
by another quite as natural. 

The truth was that he lost the two hours in driv- 
ing slowly in Emory’s interest — whose mother 
would not have known him. 

He was greatly emaciated. 

Then there was his three weeks’ growth of 
beard. 

And he was changed to the ear as well as to 
the eye. 


288 


How Baldy Won 

Though his voice was somewhat returned, it 
had not recovered its heart} 7 , cheery, good-natured 
timbre. 

Its rich, light baritone, in speech and laughter, 
which once heard was never forgotten, of which, 
where he was known, or on returning where he was 
acquainted, he was rather lavish, was not heard. 

The King of the road usually paid no more at- 
tention to those whom he conveyed than does a 
pilot to the passengers of the ship which he steers, 
or any other king to his subjects; but this even- 
ing, when he rounded up to the Houston House, 
he leaped from the box, and preceded the land- 
lord to the stage door, and astonished him, as well 
as the bystanders, by opening it with his own 
hands. 

By the time his excuses for his tardiness were 
fully taken in, he had fairly carried his charge to 
the veranda, who, when he had made sure of his 
perpendicularity, smiled his thanks. 

Now, it was just as true of Emory’s smile as 
of his tone that it could not be forgotten. 

The landlord exclaimed: 

“Well, Mr. Emberson, glad to see you again! 
Didn’t know you at first ! Allow me to take your 
arm ! Come right in ! Have your eyes about 
you, boys ! Be smart ! Come, Jim ! Have some- 


The County Seat. 289 

one drive around to the barns for you ! Your 
whistle must need a wetting !” 

The King hadn’t the slightest objection to a 
drink, or to another. He was a true Westerner 
in the regard of the amount of tarantula-juice he 
could carry; but he would not have foregone the 
pleasure of driving his team under cover, and 
seeing them unhooked, rubbed down, and properly 
stalled, for a barrel of that fluid, or a keg of gold. 
He was a true horseman. He loved a horse. As 
related in an early chapter of this history, he held 
that “horses are persons.” 

But his horses cared for, he sauntered towards 
the Houston House. 

On the way he met a character with whom the 
reader is not entirely unacquainted — no less a 
person than Blink-Eyed Tom of the Cowskin. 

Their greeting was no less hearty than it was 
profane. 

“Have a drink !” said Tom. 

“On my way to the Houston to get one! Join 
me !” 

They were old acquaintances, and had a mutual, 
rough, buffalo-like affection, as such men — having 
roughed it together, faced dangers in company, 
and not “lavin’ for each other” — are apt to have* 

As they walked — or waddled — Tom asked: 


290 How Baldy Won 

“Do you ever see that hell-on-the-trigger young 
preacher at Breezemcad?” 

“Emberson ? See him often ! He’s a good 
un’ !” 

“I’d say so ! He’s greased lightnin’ ! When 
you see him again give him my kindest !” 

“Why don’t you do it yourself?” 

“Can’t afford the time to go so far!” 

“He’s here!” 

“Now ?” 

“How in could he be here without being 

here now?” 

“Where?” 

“At the Houston House !” 

“The you say !” 

“Yes!” ' ” . 

“I’m blankety-blank-blank-blanked if I wouldn’t 
like to see him!” 

“Come along, then !” 

On leaving the stage Emory had gone imme- 
diately to his room, asking that his supper be sent 
up to him — a request for which there was enough 
reason in his physical condition, of which, there 
was ample indication in his appearance. 

The room reached, he had thrown himself on 
the bed with which it was provided. 

After some time, there was a knock at the door. 


The County Seat 291 

Thinking it was the waiter with his supper, he 
said carelessly: 

“Come in 

To his surprise, in walked the two men whom 
Ave but now left on their way to see him. 

He started up, and involuntarily reached for 
his revolver — or darted his hand to his hip-pocket, 
where his revolver would have been had he had it 
with him, as he had not; for he was not only by 
profession a man of peace, but by disposition — be* 
lieving in Avar only Avhen it could not be honorably 
avoided. 

Seeing the action, the King said: 

“There ! His being Avith me is proof that he 
means no harm l” 

Tom laughed, and said: 

“Another proof is that I haven’t my revolver in 
mv hand ! I” — still laughing — “have had enough 
experience with you, Mr. Emberson, to know that 
the man Avho succeeds in harming you must have 
a sure drop on you, and” — laughing more vigor- 
ously — “keep it carefully ! You are not the sort 
of a man to be scared at a revolver in a fellow’s 
pocket l" 

Emory invited his visitors to be seated. 

When they had taken chairs, and he had put 
them at their ease, by throAving his cigarcase to the 


292 


How Baldy Won 

King, requesting that he and his friend should 
help themselves, a conversation began, a very lit- 
tle of which is important to this history. 

Suddenly changing the subject, from a compari- 
son of the soil and the grasses of the valley of the 
Cowskin Creek, on which his ranch was situated, 
with those of the valleys of the Quicksand and the 
Butternut Rivers, Tom asked : 

"Mr. Emberson, I beg your pardon, but may I 
ask how you, an Eastern man, come to be so 
familiar with the revolver ?” 

“In the first place, ” was the reply, with a 
smile, “I’m a Southern man !” 

“Oh r 

“Then nature must have done something for 
me. And I rather believe in one’s taking care of 
himself, when there is the emergency of the neces- 
sity — something which he cannot very well do 
without having learned how ! There are two 
things with which one may be attacked in America 
— the fist and the revolver. The latter is the one 
in question now. Seeing others using it, I went 
to work and mastered it. That is all there is of 
it P 

“That’s enough ; for you certainly know how to 
handle it !” 

Emory bowed, and asked: 


The County Seat. 293 

“How did you come to attempt to make me 
drink vinegar and eat salt and pepper?” 

Crossing his legs and grinning, Tom replied: 

“Simply because I saw that you were a tender- 
foot !” 

“How did you come to leave the way open for 
me to reverse the situation with regard to the 
drop ?” 

“I didn’t know that I was leaving the way open ! 
I might have been a little more on my guard with 
a Western man. But I doubt it ! I don’t be- 
lieve there is another man living quick enough to 
snatch my ‘gun’ ! I didn’t see your hand move ! 
I didn’t know anything till you had it and me ! 
My pride was hurt. That I admit. Whose 
wouldn’t ’a’ been ? But that is all past ! I have 
no hard feelings now ! Shake !” 

When the symbolism of the “dead past’s having 
buried its dead,” for which the bad-man had risen 
and approached Emory, was over, and he was re- 
turning to his seat, he added: 

“And if you are ever in need of a man slower 
than yourself call on Blink-Eyed Tom of the Cow- 
skin!” 

Immediately after this Emory’s supper came, 
and his visitors took their departure; but not till 
he had scribbled a note on a leaf, torn it from his 


294 How Baldy Won 

pass-book, and handed it to the King, with the re- 
quest that he hand it to the landlord. 

It was an order for supper and — whatever else 
they might call for — for the two — a note for 
which he took the precaution to ask, when he set- 
tled his bill, and which he destroyed. 


The County Seat. 


295 


iPTER XXI. 

KIDNAPPED. 

Before daylight the next morning, Emory had 
left Whackston by train. 

Where he went is not material to this history. 

Suffice it to say that eight weeks later a letter 
from Hugh Charles reached him at an hotel on 
the Atlantic seaboard. 

The letter was long. 

It had much to say about “my prairie chicken” 
and “your chicken of the same species;” in the 
midst of a rather involved sentence was this clause : 
“I am bothered to death by inquiries as to the 
condition of your health ;” it touched upon church 
affairs; but the portions which most interested 
Emory were the following: 

“It transpires that the man whom you so gently 
touched with the butt of your revolver was Editor 
Walker. I say, gently; but you must have given 
him a pretty good lick, as, as a result of it, he 


2g6 How Baldy Won 

was confined to his bed for more than a month. 
During that time the Cent revi Ilians moved not, 
neither did they peep. But now they are both 
peeping and moving with a vengeance. We are 
disposed to regret that you did not hit the editor 
a little harder — a regret with which we have no 
thought that you are regenerate, unregenerate, or 
degenerate enough to sympathize. In the lan- 
guage of Dick Erskine — chaste and classical as 
Western language, especially that of this same Ers- 
kine, is apt to be: ‘ the preachers!’ But that 

will do no good — in the ease of such a preacher 
as you are ! The condemnation might react on 
the head of the condemner. That would be the 
only possible result. You arc so aggressive by 
nature, and on Christian principle, that you can- 
not be kept out of where you want to enter — as we 
Vigilantes discovered. This leads me to remark 
that we had a meeting last night. We regretted 
that you were absent in person, and not present 
in your prayers, as Brother Gurnsey would say, 
which you could not well, he as } r ou did not know 
that we were meeting. But your influence was 
there. I will tell you how. You may remember 
that the time of the election, at which the Crowley 
County voters are again to express themselves as 
to the location of the county seat, is nigh at hand 
— only some six weeks off. Up to within a week. 


The County Seat. 297 

we thought that everything was going our way. 
But the devil is abroad again in the person of 
Editor Walker. We decided last night that dis- 
position must be made of him. The (question of 
how to dispose of him arose. I called attention to 
the fact that that question had already been up, 
and decided. ‘But the preacher isn't here now V 
said Dick, with one of those sardonic smiles of his, 
and diabolical modifications. That goatee of his 
standing up like the tail of a pointer-pup, Mr. 
Yothym said: ‘But he’ll be back!’ — an observa- 
tion which caused Doctor Gray to laugh that laugh 
in which there must be a contortion of the palate, 
Mr. Bynson to smile automatically, Mr. Gurnsey 
to look pious, and Erskine to say, ‘Yes; that’s the 

of it !’ The result was that we resolved to 

stock a retired place — a place well known to every 
one of the committee, excepting yourself — with 
ca-tables, drinkables and smokables; and employ 
certain faithful, if not over-righteous individuals 
— faithful for a consideration — to capture and 
convey there the gentleman in mind. The nego- 
tiations with the agents, and the getting of the 
victim in their power — though the matter being 
in the hands of Erskine and myself (ahem !) there 
will be no time lost — will take something over a 
week. . . . Your letters have come promptly * 

We are glad to learn of your returning health and 


2gS How Baldy Won 

vigor — all of ns — including the Queen and Miss 
Avaway. I ought to be thankful to you for being 
born my cousin. The young ladies were kind to 
me before your coming. Since your temporary 
going away they overwhelm me with attentions. 
Allow me to congratulate you on your finding Miss 
Avaway, and on her — she has not made a confi- 
dant of me — having found you. There is much 
in that young lady, I can tell you ! The other 
evening you were the subject of conversation, as 
the preacher — you see that I have adopted the 
terminology of the people among whom I find 
myself — is apt to be. The party did not know 
that I was within hearing. Some one remarked: 
Tie’s a queer fellow!’ The Queen tittered; but 
Miss Avaway — in a tone which made me feel like 

but I didn’t ! said: ‘Yes; the man who 

is both a preacher and a man is queer!’ I tell 
you, Em, the stuff’s in that girl ! She’ll stand by 
you through thick and thin ! Your being away 
would be dangerous for your interests in the direc- 
tion of her, were I not so confoundly slow in mak- 
ing up my mind and in expressing myself, were I 
a little more attractive in personal appearance, 
and had I not a prairie chicken already who is 
good enough for me ! ... I enclose a letter 

which has been, thought to be for you.” 


The County Seat. 299 

This enclosed letter was addressed to: 

“The reverend EmBry emBersoN.” 

There is no possibility of giving an idea of it in 
type. 

And did I employ an engraver the reader who 
stopped to decipher it would be stopped for good. 

It was from Red Thompson. 

As nearly as the recipient could make out, the 
writer was suffering from a severe attack of the 
Western fever, that he did not dare to speak of 
it to his father or mother, and that he could not 
wait till he heard from the one whom he addressed 
before he started. 

As Emory would have been delighted to have 
Red with him anywhere, he regretted that this 
letter had not reached him before he left Breeze- 
mead. 

He would have answered it at once had there 
not been a reason why there was no need that he 
do so. 

But the reference to Miss Avaway, and the news 
of what was about to happen to Editor Walker, in 
Hughes letter, came to his mind again, and, for 
the moment, drove Red, and everybody and every- 
thing else from it. 

He went to the office and asked when he could 
get a train to the West. 


300 How Baldy Won 

He was soon off. 

Glancing at him, as he sits in the smoking-com- 
partment of the sleeper, we are pleased to see that 
he is robust again ; but we cannot restrain a smile. 

Why? 

Because of his full beard. 

It is not a very beautiful beard. 

It is yellow on the chin, auburn, if not red, on 
the cheeks and upper lip, and dark-brown in front 
of the ears. 

In general effect, it is sandy. 

It is somewhat patchy. 

The sides of the lower lip are almost bare. 

It is trimmed to a point, in the Sir Walter 
Raleigh style. 

Was there ever a man who did not fondle a new 
beard ? 

If so, Emory was not that man. 

Glancing into one of the mirrors with which 
such a compartment is always adorned, a ques- 
tioning look came to his face, his head inclined, 
the left hand, which was doing the fondling, 
stopped that operation, left the beard, and, the 
three others resting on the left cheekbone, the 
index finger scratched the outer angle of the left 
eye. 

Both of his eyes were squinted. 

There was a question in his mind: 


301 


The County Seat. 

“ Of whom do I remind myself?” 

For a time he could not conclude. 

Then his head went back in a laugh. 

Under the circumstances it was rather amusing. 

It was, also, rather startling. 

No wonder he smote his right thigh with his 
right palm, or that his right foot went into the 
air ! 

He reminded himself of — of all men in the 
world — Editor Walker! 

When the train approached — no matter what ' 
city— he began to question whether he was acting 
properly. 

He would have gone to his mother directly on 
leaving Breezemead had it not been that he did 
not care to have her see him in his emaciated con- 
dition. 

He now questioned if it would be right to re- 
turn to Breezemead without seeing her. 

Before the train pulled into the station, he had 
arranged with the train-conductor for a forty- 
eight hours* “lay-over,” and took the next express 
South. 

Of this detour there are two important facts 
which are of interest to this history; his mother 
thought his beard to be not absolutely unbecom- 
ing, and a few w’eeks before the mountains had 
ceased to hold Red Thompson. 


302 How Baldy Won 

Four or five days later, he was on the box with 
the King. 

In the midst of a talk about horses he had asked 
for news of Baldy. 

“Gone !” 

“Where ?” 

“They couldn’t do anything with him, and 
turned him out to pasture !” 

“I was afraid he might be dead, strayed, or 
stolen !” 

“He may be by this time !” 

“Which ?” 

“Either or all !” answered the King ; then — 
looking his companion in the face, suddenly — 
added, abruptly : “I’ve got it !” 

“What?” 

“Of whom you have been reminding me !” 

“Whom?” 

“Why, that blankety-blank-blank-blanked But- 
ternut City editor. What’s his name? Walker! 
And blank-blank him, he ought to be made strike a 
lively walk out of the country ! And, blank me, 
if I think it would matter a blank-blanked sight 
if he were walked farther !” 

“Why, what has he done to you?” 

“Nothing ! Wish he might ! I’d like to have 
an excuse for settling him ! But he’s done enough - 


The County Seat. 


303 


against Breezemead, the best blanked town in the 
Butternut Valley !” 

“The Butternut City people wouldn’t admit 
that !” 

“No ! — the sand-hill cranes ! Ever been in 
Butternut City?” 

“No.” 

“Well, you just ought to go down there once! 
You’d need to take your grub with you ! It is 
built on sand hills that move every time the wind 
changes. A killdeer has to carry a knapsack over 
the blasted country ! A county like Crowley 
would never think of building her capital on the 
shifting sands! ‘Great would be the fall of it!’ 
if that’s good Scripture. You know more about 
Scripture than I do ! But there are some things 
about which I know as much as anybody can. 
And one 0’ them’s Butternut City ! With her 
site she would have no show for the county seat 
were she located as well as Breezemead, which is 
located a great sight better than Centreville, 
though Centreville may be at the geographical 
centre of the county. This Centreville is built 011 
a rock, it is true, but only goats can get there !” 

This caused Emory to laugh; for he had been 
at Centreville, and knew it to be a city “beautiful 
for situation.” 

As the King had said, it is “built on a rock.” 


304 


How Baldy Won 

Jt is also true that this rook is somewhat ele- 
vated. 

But it is not true that “only a goat can get 
there.” 

The ascent of this “rock” from the north, west 
and south is so gradual that it is hardly noticeable, 
while from the east it is not overly difficult. 

The King proceeded: 

“Centreville wouldn't have a ghost of a chance 
in the coming election were it not for the help it 
is receiving from Butternut City — which throws 
sand in the eyes of the voters in the eastern and 
northeastern parts of the county — and God knows 
she has enough of it to throw !” 

I have said that the Western man is a great hoy 
in war. 

He is no less a boy in peace. 

He claims everything for anything in which he 
is interested. 

It is the greatest thing on earth. 

Indeed, its perfections are more than earthly. 

On the other hand, he admits nothing to the 
advantage of the man, woman, place, or thing 
who, or which, comes into competition with the 
man, woman, place, or thing who, or which, for 
any reason, has his allegiance. 

His, her, or its imperfections are more than 
earthly. 


The County Seat. 305 

Having given Emory time to think this, the 
King went on: 

“And Butternut City would amount to little in 

this fight were it not for that Editor 

Walker P 

At this, he gathered up his lines, spoke to his 
horses rather sharply, and would have struck with 
his whip had he been mean enough to mete on 
one, or more of them his spite at another. 

“But P he continued, “I guess the Breezemead 
Vigilantes will take care of him P — a remark to 
which there was no reply; and, of course, he had 
no idea that his companion knew more about the 
purposes of the Breezemead Vigilantes than he 
did. 

The day was delightful, and Emory enjoyed to 
the full the ride with so piquant a seat-mate. 

In the course of the clay nothing of importance 
occurred, excepting that, in the second relay, one 
of the horses flinched, and was discovered to have 
a galled shoulder. 

But this- is quite worthy of note, from the fact 
that, because of the slower driving which it, in 
conjunction with the King’s tenderness of heart, 
caused, they were some miles from Breezemead 
when night fell. 

The gall made the King moody — as moody as 


306 


How Baldy Won 

is the political king when something goes wrong 
with a servant in state or army. 

Emory was moody, too. 

He thought a little of Editor Walker, and of the 
experience which was about to overtake him, if it 
was not already upon him; more of Breezemead, 
and whether she would lose the county seat; still 
more of the church of which he was rector, in the 
chancel of which he had not been for a dozen 
weeks ; but most of Miss Avaway. 

Finally he thought only of her. 

The desire to see her became very strong within 
him — increased in strength, till he could no longer 
govern it — which may have come somewhat of the 
fact that he could see no good reason why it should 
be governed. 

The night was clear, but so dark that he could 
but dimly see the King. 

He asked: 

“How far are we from town ?” 

“We’ve just struck the outskirts!” was the 
morose reply. 

“Pull up!” 

The King did so, wondering what on earth, in 
the wav of danger or obstruction, could have 
missed his eves, and been seen by a pair inex- 
perienced. 

Saying: “My trunk and traveling-bag are new. 


307 


The County Seat. 

Xobody at the Adnogal will know them. Don't 
tell anybody whose they are. Simply say they'll 
be called for !” Emory leaped to the ground, and 
disappeared in the darkness. 

Now Hugh Charles boarded at the south of the 
town, while the trail from Whackston — swinging 
to the south, to reach a ford on the Butternut — 
entered from the southwest. 

Hugh had a pony — named Pumpkins, from his 
resemblance to the thoroughly ripe product of a 
certain robust vine — which he kept in a stable 
back of his boarding-house. 

Emory's project was to get Pumpkins, and make 
at once for The Lone Tree Claim. 

He calculated that Hugh would have had his 
supper and be away by that time. 

So he would not run the risk, in all probability, 
of being recognized by his relative. 

Should Hugh be at home, there would be noth- 
ing for it but to confide in him. 

Should he not be at home, would the landlady 
allow his property to be taken by one whom she 
did not know? 

Probably ; for Hugh was in the habit of sending 
strangers for him — friends or confederates. 

Emory counted, with absolute confidence, upon 
his beard as sufficient disguise so far as the land- 


3°8 


How Baldy Won 

lady was concerned, from the fact that s 1 was a 
Presbyterian. 

He did not know that she had ever seen him, 
excepting at matins on his first Sunday at Breeze- 
mead, when, he had learned through F^h, her 
curiosity had overcome the prejudices : inch she 
had brought from Scotland and she had been to 
hear the new preacher — “meenister,” by the way, 
according to Hugh, having dropped from her 
vocabulary as thoroughly as had minister, or 
clergyman, or priest from that of anyone coming 
from another part of the world. 

As he hurried along, he trembled with excite- 
ment, in anticipation of the opening of a door by 
someone, thinking that he would not spare Pump- 
kins. 

Anticipation of this pleasure within the hour 
absorbed him. 

He had to cross Main Street, which passes 
north and south. 

This he did hurriedly. 

But he had a sense that he was noticed by a 
couple of rough looking men, who were lurking 
under an awning, not far from the southeast cor- 
ner. 

Having no suspicion of danger, and feeling as- 
sured, as has, possibly, been more than sufficiently 


The County Seat. 309 

intimate that his beard would prevent him from 
being recognized, this gave him no uneasiness. 

He paid no attention to the two men’s darting 
into a space between the building with the awning 
and the x. d south. 

They had had, in the dim light of the street, 
opportunity to have a fairly good view of him. 

As he, hurrying eastward, passed the southeast 
corner, he had an impression of being watched 
from the mouth of the aperture between the build- 
ings. 

He should have been on his guard in approach- 
ing the next alley. 

But he was not. 

Can any practical thing be expected from a man 
in his then state of mind? 

Exactly what happened at the mouth of that 
alley, when he had sufficiently recovered, and had 
time to think about it, he did not know. 

He felt the shock of a blow back of his right 
ear. 

He would have fallen had he not been caught by 
either arm. 

Then his hands were pinioned, a gag was 
slipped into his mouth, and a bag was dropped 
over his head. 

Thus effectually silenced and blinded, he was 
led away. 


310 How Baldy Won 

A few minutes later there was a halt, the bag 
was raised from his head, the gag was removed 
from his mouth, the bag was replaced, he was 
lifted from the ground, and was astride a horse. 

From the voices about him he concluded that he 
was in the charge of a company of something like 
twenty mounted men. 

Soon the company started — he in its midst, his 
horse led — and rode rapidly away — in what direc- 
tion he could not tell. 

At first it was terrifying to him to be riding at 
such a rate — the horses went at top speed — his 
hands tied behind him. 

But he soon realized that his horse was sure- 
footed, and his mind quieted enough for questions 
to begin to rise as to why he should have been 
kidnapped. 


The County Seat. 




> 

CHAPTER XXII. 

A STRANGE VALLEY. 

He found riding with his hands tied behind 
him very painful to the body, and not holding the 
reins, and so having no control of the horse, very 
trying to the mind. 

For a considerable time his pride prevented him 
from seeking relief. 

But that was foolish. 

• He finally asked: 

"Why not tie my hands before me?” 

His voice was so muffled by the bag that it was 
thoroughly disguised. 

There being no response to his question, he 
thought it might not have been heard, and re- 
peated it more loudly. 

A voice near him said: 

"Silence ! or you’ll be regagged !” 

"I’m in your power,” he replied. "You can, 
of course, make me keep quiet. But are you 
savages? Or are you afraid of me?” 


312 


How Baldy Won 

“We’re afraid of nothing!” 

“Then why not loosen my hands? Yon needn’t 
give me the reins ! I can’t get away from yon ! 
Yon have me, t and I have sense enough to know 
it !” 

“Keep quiet!” was the stern reply; but he 
thought he caught an inflection of good-nature in 
it. 

He, also, thought he heard a sibilation. 

Had something been whispered to him, which 
the motion, the wind, and the bag had prevented 
him from hearing? 

Had he a friend among his captors? 

Or was there one among them more kindly and 
humane than the rest? 

After something like two hours’ riding, there 
was a halt made in a stream — the water of which, 
he concluded from the plashing, must have come 
to about the horses’ knees. 

When they had enough to drink, and the other 
bank was reached, as the company was retaking 
its loose formation, he was aware of a discussion. 

At length a rough voice, which it seemed to him 
he had heard before, said: 

“All right ! But be careful ! His escape would 
lose us a pretty penny !” 

Immediately two of the riders dismounted, as- 
sisted him to do the same, unbound his hands, and 


The County Seat. 313 

retied them — before him, and aided him in re- 
mounting. 

This done, the company rode on, at the same 
rapid pace at which they had approached the 
stream. 

The relief which this change in the position of 
his hands brought him was very great. 

He now began questioning in what direction 
they were moving. 

The Southwest is not very well watered. It 
partakes too much of the character of the desert 
for that. What streams there are are not wide or 
deep. Most of them partake of the character of 
swales rather than streams. They are raging tor- 
rents at the time of heavy rains, dry as the rest 
of the prairie in the time of drought, during the 
most of the year having not more than occasional 
puddles, which are often not more than damp 
places. 

As he had neither heard of recent heavy rains, 
or noticed any indication of them during his so 
recent ride in the open with the King, he con- 
cluded that the ford which had just been crossed 
must be upon one of the well-known, considerable 
streams of the region. 

He remembered that at such a ford — his horse 
had fairly slidden into and scrambled out of it 


314 How Baldy Won 

— the King was in the habit of giving his six-in- 
hand a chance to slake its thirst. 

He remembered, also, that all day long the wind 
had blown in his and the King’s faces, as they 
moved south, and that from that direction are the 
prevailing winds of the Southwest. 

They seem to love to come from the south. 

They will blow from there for weeks together, 
and were never known to change to any other 
direction in less than three days. 

How, ever since this, by him unchosen, ride had 
begun, the wind had been blowing the hag into 
the nape of his neck, getting in from below and 
causing it to belly out in front of him like a sail, 
which was unfortunate; for when a swaying of 
the horse, or an overfilling, emptied the bag, he 
was nearly smothered. 

Putting the suggestion of the water and that of 
the wind together, he concluded that he was being 
conveyed due north. 

This direction was kept long after crossisng the 
ford. 

Finally there was an abrupt turning to the left, 
causing the bag to belly over his right shoulder, 
and tickle his left cheek and nose almost unendur- 
ably. 

This direction was not pursued long, however. 

When a bridge had been thundered over, the 


The County Seat. 315 

belly of the bag was no longer over his right 
shoulder, but diagonally in front of his right- 
breast. 

This indicated that the course was changed to 
the northwest. 

He remembered that there was but one stream 
in the region wide enough to necessitate so long a 
bridge as that which had been crossed — the Quick- 
sand, and that, so far as he had seen or heard, 
there was no bridge on it save at Whackston. 

So he had retraced at night, on horseback, the 
way he had gone over, the previous day, by stage, 
and was being hurried along a trail northwest of 
Whackston — into a wild, desert region, which he 
had not penetrated, but of which he had heard 
much — the last feeding-ground of the buffalo, 
which, to the disgrace of civilized man, revealing 
his thirst for blood and gain, was nearly gone 
thirty years ago — and the home of the worst 
classes of the West — desperadoes, stage and train 
robbers, cattle and horse thieves — enemies of even 
the rude civilization of the border — the men who 
gave excuse for the Vigilantes, almost justified the 
crude justice, the symbol of which is not the bal- 
ances but the noose, which was somewhat more 
likely to punish wrongly than rightly. 

After a time he came to see the gray whiteness 
of the bag which covered his head and torso. 


316 How Baldy Won 

Soon lie saw it more distinctly. 

That this bag had held something before it had 
been appropriated as a cap for him he had known 
from the amount of sneezing he had been doing 
from soon after it was slipped over his head. 

And he had not much more than sneezed when 
his palate told him that that something had been 
cornmeal. 

He now noticed that the bag was branded. 

Could he make the brand out? 

It might give him the key to the situation; re- 
veal to him in whose hands he had fallen; be 
used sometime in convicting the kidnappers. 

It was a singular brand. 

When the day was fully come he could trace 
its outlines quite perfeetty. 

It brought to his mind some of his experiences 
in Utah, where he had been as a journalist. 

In Salt Lake City, in Ogden, and in other places 
in that territory, he had seen, over places of wor- 
ship, over school-houses, over stores of all sorts, 
even over saloons, the representation of a human 
eye, a large one, under the legend in semicircle: 
Holiness Unto the Lord . 

The brand on the bag was the representation of 
a human eye. 

But there was a difference between it and the 
Morman representation, which is that of a perfect 


The County Seat. 317 

eye; it was blurred at the outer angle — had a 
blink. 

Over it, instead of the legend, was a name, 
which, though he had, of course, to read it back- 
wards, he soon made out — Thomas J. Evans. 

He wondered passingly at the distinctness with 
which he saw the reverse of the brand and of the 
letters. 

This was afterwards explained by the thinness 
of the stuff of the bag, and the clear-cut distinct- 
ness with which they were stamped — in addition 
to which should be mentioned the brilliance of the 
sunlight in this on-the-border-of-the-desert region, 
and the clearness of the air — which two things 
make transparent what is only translucent in the 
vapory atmosphere and dimmer sunlight of the 
East. 

As this wonder was passing through his mind, 
the company came to a stop, to his great relief 
the bag was stripped from his torso, over his head, 
and he could look about — when his eyes had again 
adjusted themselves to distances — which they 
seemed to do through his blinking a number of 
times — though for a considerable while they saw 
objects very much as a hand which has been asleep 
lays hold of things — not clumsily, but numbly. 

These objects were not distant. 

The halt had been made in a narrowing defile. 


3 1 8 How Baldy Won 

There was an almost perpendicular wall on 
either hand. 

Immediately in front was a heavy gate, at which 
one of the horsemen, dismounted, was working 
with the fastening, resenting the trouble that it 
was giving him with a muttered profanity, while 
those about the prisoner were heaping impreca- 
tions upon him for his awkwardness. 

In a niche in the wall, half hidden by a boulder, 
Emory saw a sentinel, who, at a command from 
the leader, was about to descend to assist in the 
opening of the gate, when it came open, and the 
party rode through and on — leaving the dis- 
mounted man to reclose and secure it and follow. 

Emory now had a full view of a valley, glimpses 
of which he had caught through the bars of the 
gate. 

It was probably a mile long and a little over a 
quarter of a mile wide. 

It was simply a greater widening of the defile 
through which the gate had been approached, 
bounded on either hand by continuations of the 
precipices which he felt he could almost touch at 
the removal of the bag — walls a hundred feet or 
so high, which re-approached sufficiently, it could 
be seen, to be gated at the other end of the valley. 

It was evident, from its position with relation 
to the rising sun, that it ran east and west. 


The County Seat. 319 

Xear the southern wall flowed a sluggish 
stream. 

Along the northern bank of this there was a 
strip of cultivated land, probably two hundred 
yards wide. 

Xear the northern wall, about midway between 
the gates, at the side of an immense corral, was a 
cluster of sod buildings, chiefly stables. 

Somewhat apart from these, however, and 
nearer the wall, was a long, low, narrow building. 

It was only a single room deep. 

In its front there were at least a dozen rude 
doors. 

Emory surmised, what he found afterwards to 
be true, that each of these belonged to a room. 

A projection from the wall came to the middle 
of this dwelling. 

The cavalcade rode to the middle of the front 
of the building, and Emory was told to dismount. 

When he reached the ground he could hardly 
stand. 

When we remember that he was but recovered 
from a severe illness, and take into the account 
what he had passed through in the course of the 
past twenty-four hours, this is not matter for 
wonder. 

Xor is it remarkable that he could not suppress 
a groan. 


320 


How Baldy Won 

He tottered, and nearly fell. 

One of his conductors started forward to sup- 
port him. 

He recovered himself by a strong effort of will, 
and looked about independently, if not somewhat 
defiantly. 

He could see that this did not lower him in the 
estimation of the men who had him in charge. 

Whatever they might be going to do with him 
subsequently, they made temporary disposition of 
him at once — by leading him through the middle 
one of the numerous front doors, through the 
room into which it opened, which he noticed to be 
furnished with a number of cots, a table, three or 
four common chairs, and some rough benches — 
through a door at its rear, into an apartment 
which seemed to have been hewn in the living 
rock. 

He had but to glance about with some care to 
see that this was partially true. 

A natural cave, in the projection of the cliff, 
had been enlarged. 

The resultant apartment was well lighted by 
windows cut through the sides. 

With the thought which is always in the pris- 
oner's mind, he glanced at these windows. 

But they were higher up than he could reach, 
even from a table, and strongly barred. 


321 


The County Seat 

The two men who conducted him into the rock- 
hewn, but perfectly comfortable cell, unbound his 
hands, and at once left him. 

The morning was rather close. 

The windows were slightly open, for the sake 
of ventilation. 

It was evident that whatever fate might be pro- 
posed for him, he thought, as he glanced about, 
there had been care taken that he might be at 
present comfortable. 

There had even provision been made that he 
might take a bath — a thoughtfulness that had 
not manifested itself in either the Houston or the 
Adnogal House. 

A little out from a corner sat a tub two-tliirds 
filled with cold water while near it was a large 
pail full of boiling-hot water. 

On a chair near these vessels were soap, a 
sponge and a bath towel. 

Fatigued as he was, he could not withstand this 
temptation. 

The bath greatly refreshed him. 

To his surprise, when he lifted the towel, he 
found a nightshirt. 

There were slippers beside the chair. 

When he had gotten into the former of these 
and slipped on the latter he made for the bed, 
which stood in the corner diagonally across. 


322 How Baldy Won 

The mattress was of hair, the sheets and cases 
were sweet to the nostrils and snowy to the eyes, 
the pillows looked and felt fluffy. 

As he threw himself down, he again east his 
eyes about, and 

But it is but fair to let him go to sleep. 


I 


The County Seat. 


3^3 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

DID HE DRINK IT? 

The things which he saw as his eves closed 
were : 

A writing-table covered with green baize, and 
well stocked with pens, ink and paper ; shelves 
covered with books, most of them looking as if 
they might be works of reference; a large ward- 
robe; some not-bad pictures, and a low, narrow 
door opposite that of entrance. 

But he simply noticed, did not note them. 

Oblivion came with his head’s touching the 
pillow. 

Still his falling asleep was not so instantaneous 
that he had not been also conscious that there 
were curtains at the windows, and beneath one of 
them a rod, with a hook at one end, by which they 
might be drawn. 

But he did not rise to draw them ; as, because of 
the height of the windows, he had not needed to 
do before he proceeded to take his bath. 


3 2 4 


How Baldy Won 

The descent of sleep was too -sweet and grate- 
ful to be delayed for anything. 

It was made all the more delightful by a rip- 
pling murmur. 

There was a slight wonder in his mind as to 
what caused that murmur, and from where it 
came. 

But the wonder was rather in the region of 
sub-consciousness. 

It leaped for a moment into full consciousness. 

But it could wait for gratification till the de- 
scending sleep had risen. 

He was disturbed at midday. 

As he was becoming dimly aware of half-awake- 
ness, a rich voice said: 

“Dinnah’s now serbed !” 

As his eyes slightly opened, he saw a negro, one 
of those dry-black fellows, who are the perfection 
of house-servants — in white cap and apron — the 
cap intimating that he was cook as well as waiter 
— standing in the middle of the apartment, a 
napkin over his a arm, a salver in his hands, on 
which steamed food and coffee. 

As his eyes reelosea, he said: 

“Out o* here, you black rascal !” 

With a “Yah, yah!” — showing all his white 
teeth — the negro went, saying: 

“All right, massah !” as he would not have said 


325 


The County Seat. 

it to a Northern man — to whom the words might 
have been the same ; but the tone would have been 
very different. 

In Emory he had recognized the Southerner. 

As to Emory, as he redropped asleep, he thought 
vaguely : 

“In that nigger I have a friend !” — in his mind 
the word nigger not representing the contempt it 
embodies in the speech of the Northern man. 

In common with his class — speaking geographi- 
cally — he looks upon the negro — or nigger — as 
he does upon a dog — holding the dog in such high 
estimation that he is not long without one. 

He expects faithfulness from his dog, and he 
gets it. 

He expects the same thing from a nigger, and 
gets it from him also — never fails to get it — on 
the ground, possibly, that one generally gets from 
another what he expects from him — the expecta- 
tion being based not only upon the estimate of 
that other, but also upon disposition towards him. 

When Emory again awoke, the negro was once 
more in the room, spreading a table. 

Now Emory turned over, yawned, gave evidence 
that he was disposed to rise. 

Seeing this, the negro went to the wardrobe, un- 
locked it, and, leaving the key in the door, turned 
towards the table, saying: 




326 How Baldy Won 

“You’ll find in dar, massah, what ebah you 
wants l y> 

Emory rose, went to the wardrobe, and found 
hanging there several suits of clothes. 

“Look in de dwahs !” was suggested. 

There were two of these beneath the door. 

They were found to be well stocked with under- 
wear and linen. 

Selecting a suit of the former, Emory — the 
negro having gone out — put it on. 

It was rather a snug fit, but he found that he 
could wear it with a degree of comfort. 

Then he took out a linen shirt and put it on. 

It was too tight across the chest, too short in 
the sleeves, and the band would not button about 
the neck. 

He had to resume the shirt which had served 
him for a day on the box of the stage, and for a 
night on horseback in a meal bag, and which ifc 
takes no great stretch of imagination to see could 
not have been very attractive. 

Then he tried a suit of clothes. 

The trousers came only five-sixths of the way 
from his knees to his heels, were too tight across 
the hips, the waistcoat would not button, and had 
he allowed his shoulders to take a natural position 
the coat would have split in the back. 


The County Seat 327 

Sambo having returned by tills time, Emory 
said: 

“Everything in the wardrobe and in the draw- 
ers was intended for a smaller man ! How’s 
that?” 

“Dunno ! Fs on’y de cook, de waitah, de body 
sarbant ! Fs tole F open de wahdrobh, pint out 
de dwahs, an’ lebe de key in de doah ! Dah my 
’sponsibil’ty en’s!” 

“Who told you?” 

“Dunno ! Fs ’ployed ’s a cook in Kansas City, 
an’ heah I is ! Dat’s ail I knows ’bout ’t. But” — 
in a whisper — “I sees some mightah queah 
tings !” 

Emory donned the mealy suit which he had 
taken off in the morning, was brushed down with 
a whisk which hung beside a half-length French 
mirror, and sat down to satisfy an appetite which 
was a compensation for having missed three meals 
and been constrained to an exercise under con- 
ditions which might have been the death of any- 
one but a trained athlete. 

But before he began to eat Sambo said: 

“Wait a minit’ !” went to a corner, and returned 
with a bottle, from which, as he approached the 
table with a grin, he wiped the water with which 
it dripped. 

“What’s that?” asked Emory. 


328 


How Baldy Won 

The bottle was held near him and he saw that 
the brand was : A Drop of Dew-Drop . 

Sambo filled a large glass in the most waiterish 
style. 

Did Emory take it off? 

There! 

Remember that his full name and titles were: 
The Reverend Emory M. Emberson, B. D. 

Still my fidelity to fact as an historian compels 
me to admit that he slightly caught his breath as 
he asked: 

“Where did you get that, Sambo?” 

“Obah dar, in de co’nah !” 

The rippling murmur to which he had gone to 
sleep was now explained. 

There was a clear, cold spring in the corner to- 
wards which the “boy” had nodded his head, with 
a grin. 

“What becomes of the water on leaving here?” 
asked Emory. 

With a show of all the negro’s feeling of im- 
portance in giving information, Sambo replied: 

-“Hit passes trough erffen pipes to de correll, 
fur de waterin’ ob de stock — ob which more comes 
inter dis bailey dan belongs to it, I’s finkin’ some- 
times ! 55 — the observation after the dash uttered in 
a voice which was sunk to almost a whisper. 

Then — the folding of the napkin indicating 


The County Seat. 329 

that the supper was concluded — he went to the 
narrow door, unlocked it, and brought a box of 
the highest, grade cigars that could be procured 
at the West at that early period — which is saying 
more for their quality than may be suspected; for 
the Western man is never careful of his money — 
especially when he is spending it on whisky or 
tobacco. 

As Emory lighted a cigar, Sambo, taking the 
rod with the hook at its end, closed the curtains of 
the windows so adroitly that Emory was sure 
that he had had much experience on Pullmans, 
gathered up the dishes, and what of the supper 
had not been consumed, disappeared, returned, 
made sure that nothing more was wanted, and 
went out finally, the table linen under his arms, 
the folding table on which the supper had been 
served in his hands, closing the door, which se- 
cured itself with a spring lock, after him, with a 
heel. 

Left to himself Emory began to look about. 

He saw traces on the ceiling and walls of what 
nature had done in the formation of the apart- 
ment. 

The cave which had been chiseled into it had 
evidently been a large one. 

All the workmen had had to do was to give it 
proper shape. 


330 


How Baldy Won 

The spring was just where nature had placed it. 

The chisel had no mission but that of hollow- 
ing and shaping its bowl a little. 

In this bowl had been replaced the bottle of A 
Drop of Dew-Drop. 

This made him think of the closet — there being 
so close a connection between the drinkable and 
the smokable. 

Its door had no more been relocked or denuded 
of its key than had that of the wardrobe. 

Opening this door, he could not but smile at 
what he saw. 

The closet was simply a smaller cave, into 
which a low, narrow entrance had, before the com- 
ing of man, admitted whatever beasts saw fit, and 
were small enough, to enter it from the outer im- 
mensely larger cave. 

On the floor he saw the case from which had 
been taken the bottle which he had just seen lying 
so snugly in the bowl of the spring. 

There were other cases — some of wines, some of 
beers. 

On the shelves were eleven boxes of cigars — 
each with a different label from that which had 
not been returned, from which the cigar in Ins 
mouth had been taken. 

From the closet he went to the book shelves. 

Besides the cyclopedias and other books of ref- 


The County Seat. 331 

erence, which, probably because of his journalistic 
experience he had noticed as he fell asleep, were 
a good many volumes of history, fiction, poetry, 
Science and philosophy — some of which — he could 
not help smiling in noticing this, though it must 
be admitted he was somewhat offended by it — 
looked familiar, and were found to have his name 
on the fly leaf. 

They were from the little library which he had 
brought to the West with him. 

Taking a book, and placing the lamp on the 
writing-table, he sat down to read. 

But finding no pleasure in that, and feeling 
drowsy, he went to the spring, made sure that 
the label of the bottle was not submerged, and was 
about to go to bed, when there was a knock at the 
door. 

“Come in he said. 

A key was inserted, the bolt was shot back, and 
entered — one at whom he looked with astonish- 
ment, and exclaimed : 

“What in the name of mischief are yon doing 
here 1 ” 

The enterer started back. His eyes were wide. 
He asked in a hushed tone — which called to 
Emory’s mind that he should not have spoken so 
loudly : 

“WhoTe y’uT 


33 2 


How Baldy Won 

“Don’t you know me ? Red?” 

“Em ! by thunder ! But where ’d y’u git them 
whiskers ?” 

Explanations followed. 

Those of Red were to the effect that he and his 
father had had as hot a time as if they had stirred 
up a hive, or a “tree,” and he had resolved to 
strike out for himself. 

The next day he had dropped into Jim Shel- 
by’s blacksmith shop. 

That worthy had said that the county had pro- 
duced but one young fellow with grit enough to 
tackle the West. 

Upon that he (Red) had taken a sudden resolu- 
tion to prove that the blatherskite — Shelby did 
not belong to the same political party with him — 
did not know the amount of grit there was in the 
composition of every young fellow in the county. 

He had learned Emory’s address from Mr. 
Shad, and dropped him a note to the effect “that 
the undersigned was starting for Whackston, and 
would come from there to see him, if such a 
procedure would be entirely agreeable to him. 

Upon reaching that place the author of the note 
had been grieved and rattled — it is remarkable 
how quickly one used to pick up the slang of the 
West — by not finding a letter from his old play- 
mate. 


333 


The County Seat. 

Through the years he had saved enough money 
from the sale of the flesh, fur, skins and scalps of 
wild animals to get him to Whackston, and little 
more. 

He took the first job that offered. 

“An’ here y’u see me, Em,” he continued, 
“bottle washer t’ a nigger!” 

At this Emory laughed so heartily that Red 
raised a finger, and frowningly warned him to 
not make so much noise. 

The laugher’s face straightened, as he said : 

“You know. Red, that had I been at home when 
your letter came, I would have more than written 
— I would have come to meet you ! But the past 
is gone ! The present is here ! Go over to the 
spring in the corner, and see if you can’t find 
some consolation ! I must put this book away !” 

His face to the shelves, his back to the spring, 
Emory heard a prolonged gurgling. 

A minute later, between smackings of his lips, 
and duckings of his tongue from the roof of his 
mouth, accompanied by blinkings of his eyes, Red 
said : 

“Ah, Em! say, thet *s th’ stuff!” 

“What?” 

“ ’T’s too good t’ name!” 


334 


How Baldy Won 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

BALDY AGAIN. 

He was awakened the next morning by loud 
talking. 

It was all done by one man. 

The replies were in a lower tone. 

The loud voice employed no insulting epithets. 

These no Western man — no matter how subor- 
dinate his position — would have endured. 

He would have resented them at any hazard. 

But the tone itself was so domineering that he 
concluded that it was from someone in authority. 

It could not have come from one who had not 
some show of right to employ it to such men as 
those who had conveyed him to that place. 

He asked of Sambo — who entered while the 
voice was in full flood: 

“Who’s making so much fuss outside?” 

“He boss !” was the half grinning, half fright- 
ened reply. 


335 


The County Seat 

“Who’s he?” 

“Dunno! I knows dat ’e ’s de wust man on 
de Cowskin — an’ dat ’s ekal t’ sayin’ dat ’e ’s de 
w'ust man in de worl’ ! Oh, massa, de tings w’at 
goes on heah ’s suffin’ awful ! I fink sometimes 
dat de good Lawd’ll tumble de hills on de wicked 
men an’ on me wiff ’em!” 

“The Cowskin ! Is that the name of the stream 
which goes through the valley?” 

“Eh-heh !” 

The loud voice was still going on without. 

It asked: . 

“IIow did the accident happen to the east gate ?” 

The answer was perfectly audible in the cell: 

“Mike’s team ran away, and went bang into 
it ! The tongue of the wagon shot up, and car- 
ried away the upper part !” 

“Why hasn’t it been fixed?” 

“It happened this morning, and w r e’ve been so 
busy brandin’ mavericks that we haven’t had 
time !” 

This answer, probably from the foreman, 
seemed to be satisfactory to the boss. 

He asked: 

“Are you nearly through with the branding?” 

“We’ll have finished it in another hour.” 

The boss’s voice lowered to a more natural key 
in: 


336 How Baldy Won 

"I’m told you got the prisoner through all 
right ! Where is he ?” 

"In the cave.” 

"Have you had him out for exercise ?” 

"Ho.” 

The boss’s voice was higher than ever: 

"Why haven’t you? I couldn’t get here soon- 
er! When I stopped at Whackston, and left him 
in your charge, I thought that it was understood 
that he was not to be treated as a rat in a hole ! 
Bring him out, and give him a chance to breathe 
and stretch his legs ! I’ll be back soon.” 

There was the sound of the going to the west 
of a galloping horse, and a kindly mannered, 
though roughly dressed man entered to Emory, 
and asked him if he would not like to go out for 
a little. 

The two were soon in the open, Emory as free 
as his companion — the difference between them, in 
this regard, being that the former had not the 
means with which to assert or protect his freedom. 

They walked towards the corral where the 
branding was in progress. 

A young steer had just been lassoed. 

The sizzing of the red-hot iron in the flesh, and 
the bellowing of the victim would have caused 
Emory to turn away — lie was sick at heart — had 


The County Seat. 337 

not the character of the brand attracted his at- 
tention. 

He asked to see the branding-iron. 

Had it been smaller, it might have been used in 
branding the bag, his experience in which he 
would not be liable to forget. 

It represented a blink-eye. 

All things taken into account, the reader will 
not be surprised to learn that he was not sur- 
prised, when, a little later, the boss came gallop- 
ing back, to recognize in him the man with whom 
he had had the vinegar-and-pepper-and-salt adven- 
ture at the Houston House — Blink-Eyed Tom of 
the Cowskin. 

Tom, or — to be more courteous — Mr. Evans, 
dismounted, approached, and shook hands with 
him cordially, saying: 

“Em sorry, Mr. Walker, that the fortunes of 
war have made it necessary for us to lay violent 
hands upon you. But I hope that you have been 
at least bodily comfortable since you reached the 
valley ! ” 

Disguising his voice as best he could, Emory re- 
plied : 

“Yes, thank you l” 

Mr. Evans turned to the foreman — the man 
who had just brought the prisoner from the cell 
— and said: 


338 How Baldy Won 

“That’s the best lot of horses that’s been brought 
in lately ! That black one with the bald face is 
especially fine !” 

This brought to Emory’s mind Baldy, and made 
him think that he would like to be on his back, 
and have some yards start of his pursuers, let 
them be mounted as they might ; and caused him 
to conclude that Mr. Evans had returned from a 
corral to the westward in the valley, which a re- 
mark he had heard led him to conclude was set 
apart to horses as the one near the dwelling was 
to bovines. 

“I was thinking of having them tried this 
morning,” said the foreman; “but the fixing of 
the gate will prevent that.” 

“Let the gate go for the present. Bring the 
horses. We’ll show Mr. Walker some horseman- 
ship !” 

While this command was being executed, the 
boss, the foreman, and the prisoner — who was still 
careful to disguise his voice, and spoke as little 
as possible — chatted together — the boss saying, 
among the many things which he uttered — the 
silence of anyone did not inconvenience him in the 
least — that in his opinion — and this was one of 
the sagest remarks that cajme from him — com- 
promise was better than fighting, in county-seat 
as in other squabbles — his language being that of 


The County Seat. 339 

a cultivated man — as was that of the foreman — 
which would have been a surprise to their inter- 
locutor had it not been that he knew the West, 
and that there, under the roughest dress, and 
speech, and manner, a polished gentleman was 
often in hiding^ and had he not been what it is 
hard to surprise — a journalist. 

When the horses came, one of them — the black 
one with the white face, who attracted the atten- 
tion of all, of even Sambo, who had come out in 
white cap and apron “¥ see de fun,” and who, in 
common with so many of his color, was a born and 
trained horseman — whinnied as if he recognized 
someone. 

“Who is it?” asked the boss. 

Speaking well through his nose — as if he had 
a cold — Emory said : 

“There is as much difference in horses as there 
is in men. It takes some of them a long while 
to become acquainted, some a very short while. 
He may have formed a sudden attachment for 
one of the men who brought him here.” 

“Maybe so,” said the boss, in a tone which 
showed that he had doubts on the point, or that 
he had paid little attention to what had been said, 
and proceeded to superintend the saddling of the 
horse which had been selected as the one to be 
first ridden. 


340 How Baldy Won 

There was little trouble in riding him — a fine 
gelding. 

The one next chosen bucked, but he was soon 
mastered. 

Another reared, fell backwards, and would have 
crushed the one with whom he was struggling, 
under the heavy Mexican saddle, had the man not 
darted to one side, as his back touched the ground, 
with the quickness of a snake. 

Others were attempted, with the result of show- 
ing the wickedness of the Western horse and the 
skill of the Western horseman in perfection. 

Baldy — for the reader needs hardly to be told 
that the black horse with the white face was he — • 
was saved till the last. 

It could be seen that he was not only the finest, 
but the most vicious, of the herd of twenty or 
more of which he was one. 

As he came up Emory kept well in the back- 
ground — knowing that, if he got near enough, he 
would nose at a pocket for a lump of sugar, which 
had formerly been there for him daily — to the ex- 
haustion of the Adnogal House sugar-bowls. 

Such an action upon his part would have re- 
vealed the friendship and understanding between 
them, and made impossible the events which I am 
about to relate. 

To distract attention, Emory remarked: 


The County Seat. 341 

“A fine lot of houses !” and asked : ‘‘Where did 
you get them?” 

The remark and the question were entirely suc- 
cessful in accomplishing his purpose. 

The boss — after looking around on his gang 
and grinning, and receiving as many grins in re- 
turn, as there were mouths in the gang to grin — 
replied, with a wink of the eye which was not 
blink: 

“That’s a leading question, Mr. Walker!” and 
Emory had — of which there was little need — more 
evidence of the character of the men into whose 
hands he had fallen, and felt mount in him a dis- 
position to do a deed of daring, to free himself, 
and astonish them. 

By this time Baldy was saddled. 

Who was to mount him? 

Everybody did not volunteer, as everybody had 
done with relation to every other horse that had 
been saddled. 

The boss had to designate a man — the boldest, 
the most capable, the most powerful of those who 
had taken part in the battles royal between ma*i 
and beast, which had now been succeeding each 
other for more than two hours. 

This man seemed to be in readiness for any 
trick that Baldy might see fit to try, excepting the 
only one on which he relied. 


34 2 How Baldy Won 

He did the thing which Emory looked for him 
to do. 

As a leg swung over him, he sank to the ground, 
and the man stood above him. 

Then he rose and shot away suddenly. 

The one who bestrode him now was not so self- 
possessed as had been the one by whom he was 
bestridden when he shot out of, and away from, 
Squire Biley’s livery stable — which, however, it is 
only fair to him to say, he might have been had 
he been under the eye of a Queen. 

The way at which the four-footed fiend went 
up the valley, to the west — his bald face having 
been set in that direction because of the mishap 
which had come to the gate at the east — was 
enough to take away the breaths of the beholders. 

The effect it had on the rider can only be im- 
agined ; for — for reasons which shall appear — 
Emory never heard him describe it. 

He had pulled violently at the reins at once. 

This had put Baldy on his guard. 

He had the bit in his teeth, and he kept it 
there. 

It is doubtful if Emory could have gotten it out 
within so short a course. 

In a twinkle the upper end of the valley was 
reached. 

The runaway could go no farther. 


The County Seat. 343 

Out went his legs, and stood as the shores of a 
man-of-war on the docks. 

He stopped so suddenly that the rider — who, 
bold as he was, had probably lost his head — was 
taken unaware, and went on, at no abatement of 
speed, and struck the wall, at one side of the gate, 
with such force that he rolled to the ground, as 
limp as a rag. 

Whether he was killed, Baldy did not seem to 
care. 

He went to grazing, and was soon caught, and 
brought back to the point from which he had 
started, by one who had been commanded to do 
so, and w'ho had started off w r ith three who had 
been detailed to look after the man who had not 
stopped when Baldy did. 

Looking him over, with the rest, Emory said, 
with a smile: 

“It seems to me that you fellows need a lesson 
in horsemanship !” 

“Think so?” asked the boss, in a tone which 
showed that, for the moment, he was forgetting 
that he was speaking to a guest, and added; 
“Maybe you think you can give it !” 

“I am willing to try !” was the modest, but at 
the same time aggressive reply. 

“Stand back!” ordered the boss. 


344 


How Baldy Won 

The men obeyed, and there was not one of them 
near Baldy, save the one who had his hand on his 
rein near the left bit-ring. 

“Now,” he proceeded — with the mildness with 
which he might have proposed a duel with the re- 
volver — “Mr. Walker, if you think you can teach 
us to ride, mount !” 

Emory stepped forward, rubbed Baldy’s nose, 
examined the girths, and — mounted ! 

Baldy did not sink to the earth, but, at a touch 
from Emory’s heel, darted away — in the direc- 
tion from which he had been led back; for — the 
injured gate still in mind — his head had been 
turned to the west. 

But, at the word, he came, first to a trot, and 
then to a walk. 

The men cheered. 

Emory turned, and rode towards them. 

With the exception of Mr. Evans and Red, they 
advanced to meet him. 

Half a dozen of them were reaching out for 
Baldy’s reins. 

“Not so fast ! Stand back ! Now, Baldy !” 
said Emory. 

And Baldy dashed through them, over them, 
away from them. 

They were so overturned, mixed up, discom- 


The County Seat. 345 

fited, that there was nothing to fear from them. 

The same was not true of Mr. Evans. 

Had he refrained from advancing because he 
was on guard against what was now transpiring? 

Revolver in hand, he was waiting for his game 
to settle to a steady run. 

Why had Red remained with him? 

Glancing over his shoulder, Emory saw him 
stoop, pick up a stone, and draw back, as if to 
hurl it at him. 

There was a cracK. 

The stone had struck, not gently, and Mr. 
Evans’ revolver had flown from his hand, which 
he was holding, elbow in air, as if it were causing 
him great pain. 

Had this not eventuated, Baldy would probably 
have been riderless. 

As it was, he went, rider and all, over the east 
gate — or what remained of it — as if he had been a 
bird. 

From midair, Emory looked back. 

The men whom he had left so unceremoniously 
were mounting hurriedly. 

But Baldy was under him, and he had not much 
fear that they would succeed in overtaking him. 

Nor had he any fear to speak of in the regard 
of the sentinels. 


346 


How Baldy Won 

He had noticed that they had walked along the 
cliffs to enjoy the riding. 

They sent a ball or two after him, but they 
went wild, and, the gate cleared, he was in the 
defile, and so thoroughly protected from them. 


The County Seat. 


347 


CHAPTER XXV. 

TWO WELL-DIRECTED STONES. 

The valley in which he had been held prisoner 
lay between two of the first of the waves, so to 
speak, which grow greater and greater westward 
till they culminate in the Rocky Mountains, with 
their eternal white-caps. 

Emerging — as he did in a half mile or so — 
from the defile he looked out on a country very 
much like that with which he had become familiar 
between Whackston and Breezemead — the differ- 
ence being that the undulations here were more 
sweeping, their apexes higher, and the troughs be- 
tween them deeper. 

There was no well-defined trail before him. 

But the hints which the wind and the bridge 
had given him were fresh in his memory, and 
gave him a good general notion of the direction 
in which he should travel. 


348 


How Baldy Won 

This was fortunate; for what hint of a trail 
there was soon failed him — diffused in wagon 
tracks. 

The outlaws were wise. 

They had not beaten a track to their lair. 

There was a light, steady wind from the south, 
and he, of course, knew that by taking and keep- 
ing this on his right cheek he would be traveling 
to the southeast. 

He acted accordingly. 

After this, he had not ridden more than a 
quarter of a mile, when a hall whistled near him. 

The time of the Civil War had been a vacation 
to him — which, as a little boy, he had spent in and 
about camps, in the neighborhood of skirmishes, 
on the fringes of great battles. 

He was, consequently, familiar with the songs 
which various missiles sing. 

This one he thought to be from a long-range' 
rifle. 

It caused him to turn in his saddle and look 
hack. 

What he saw brought a heel-touch to Baldy. 

He bounded forward. 

But his rider checked him — for two reasons: it 
would not do to wind even him at the outset of the 
tremendous ride that was ahead ; and Emory had 
seen, not only a bunch of horsemen in pursuit, but 


349 


The County Seat. 

a flag waving from a cliff, probably a signal tc 
confederates in the direction in which he was 
moving. 

These things had been seen from the apex of 
an undulation. 

The dash which Baldy had made had carried 
him well down its other side. 

Emory noticed that the trough into which he 
was descending trended to the east of south. 

He had perfect faith in his mount’s sureness 
of foot, which he had tested in rough country after 
jackrabbits. 

Through this trough he moved for an hour at 
a pace which would have been killing for any 
other horse. 

Then he climbed the precipitate bank to the 

left. 

There he paused for Baldy to blow, to take a 
look about, and to have a bit of a think. 

Shading his eyes and scanning the country, he 
could not see a sign of a living creature any- 
where, saving a hawk sailing above the horizon. 

Stop ! 

What is that ? 

A cloud of dust, to the east, on the trail leading 
to Whackston. 

For a time he could make out nothing in the 
cloud. 


350 How Baldy Won 

Then a gust of wind disturbed it, and he could 
see that it enveloped a company of horsemen. 

Was it the one that he had seen leaving the 
valley in pursuit of him? 

Probably. 

But all of it? 

It is necessary now to say that at the pace at 
which Baldy had traveled he must have covered 
in the neighborhood of fifteen miles — which was 
possible from the facts that his muscles were of 
steel — the best of steel, and that the bottom of the 
trough — through which must pass volumes of 
water in one of the cloud-bursts which the Ameri- 
can Desert knows at times — was — excepting in 
short spaces, where great rocks lay loosely to- 
gether, over which Baldy had to be walked — hard 
sand, which made excellent footing. 

Some miles back the trough had crossed the 
trail. 

Could it be possible that his pursuers had not 
noticed that he had not turned into the latter, but 
kept the former? 

He thought not. 

They were not only irontiersmen, but outlaws 
as well — up to all the tricks of pursuit and es- 
cape. 

Then in crossing the trail he had seen that 


The County Seat. 351 

there would be no use in making attempt to hide 
traces. 

The trail was hard, and the sand of the trough 
virgin. 

A horse’s footmarks could not have been hidden 
from a groceryman fresh from Broadway. 

He suspected that the main body — in the hope 
that he might see it from some such position as 
he now occupied — had continued on the trail to 
Whackston, while a detachment had taken the 
trough after him. 

He had dismounted, and loosened the girth, 
that Baldy might have a chance for a blow — 
which he had taken, and gone to nibbling at a 
rosinweed. 

Emory now patted his shoulder, pulled his head 
around by the rein, rubbed his nose, and whispered 
in his ear: 

“But they won’t catch us napping, old boy !” 
and led him along the top of the ridge on which 
they stood, towards a break which he saw lie- 
tween two immense boulders, a few yards to the 
north. 

This break he had noticed as he hud brought 
Baldy up from a gallop, and, when he reached it, 
found, as he expected, that it gave him fair pro- 
tection for observation of the trough. 

He had not much more than taken his position 


352 How Baldy Won 

at it, when he heard the muffled beating of the 
feet of horses rushing on the sand. 

He was not armed. 

But he could throw. 

And there were stones at hand. 

Selecting a few of these which were suitable, he 
took position, Baldy’s rein hanging loosely over: 
his left arm. 

Not expecting ambuscade — knowing that theirs 
quarry was not armed — two horsemen rushed, at 
full career, within range. 

A stone struck one of them in the face, and he 
tumbled from his horse backwards. 

The other, reining in, turned half about. 

A stone struck him behind an ear, and he came 
to the ground on his face. 

Emory said: 

“Baldy, ’tisn’t a bad idea to know how to do 
anything! There’s no telling when it may come 
in handy ! And whatever you know how to do, 
you ought to know how to do well ! I’ve gotten a 
good deal of amusement out of knowing how to 
throw stones and things ! Now I’ve gotten profit 
out of it !” and led him down to the trough, 
mounted, and rode away. 

The sun was still not set when he saw, to the 
southeast, two large cottonwood trees — the two of 
which he had asked the King of the Koad, toward 


353 


The County Seat. 

the close of his first day on the throne with that 
potentate, if they were Hoax’s — that is, if they 
were the ones which indicated where the horse of 
that name had instinctively forded the Quick- 
sand. 

They were soon aligned to him, and, so directed, 
he rode to the river’s brink. 

Without hesitation, Baldy entered the water, 
and came out at the roots of the tree opposite the 
one at the roots of which the discoverer of the 
passage had made land. 

Emory entered Breezemead almost exactly 
forty-eight hours after, so independently of his 
will, leaving that city. 

He would not have been the horseman he w as 
had he not thought first oh the comfort of Baldy, 
and ridden directly to the livery-stable where he 
belonged. 

The men did not know the rider, nor were they 
glad to see the ridden. 

One of them said: 

“After that devil of an Episcopal preacher 
went away we couldn’t do anything with the other 
devil — the bald-faced one — that thought so much 
of him ! So we sent him to a ranch, from where, we 
were told the other day, he was stolen. Who are 
you? You must be that man Emberson, or some 
other devil, or you couldn’t ’a’ come on Baldy!” 


354 


How Baldy Won 

“Take the horse,” replied Emory, “and ask no 
questions, or some one of the numerous devils in 
whom you seem to believe may be disposed to set- 
tle with you !” 

But the men could do nothing with him, and 
Emory had to lead him to his stall. 

This done, he made his way to the Adnogal 
House. 


i 


The County Seat. 


355 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

THE HOP. 

As he approached the Adnogal House, he no- 
ticed that it was brilliantly lighted — as brilliantly 
as a house can be lighted with kerosene — which 
was as brilliant an illuminator as could be em- 
ployed ; for gas had not yet been introduced at 
Breezemead, and electricity was still to be used 
as an illuminator. 

But brilliancy, in common with other mundane 
things, is relative, and were gas unprocurable and 
electricity unknown anywhere to-day, one, by a 
little use of the imagination, can see what bril- 
liant effects might be procured with kerosene. 

There were the sounds of stringed instruments. 

They were not giving forth music. 

They were being tuned. 

There was evidently to be a hop at the Adnogal, 

Brother Gurnsey, as the landlord of that hostel- 
ry was commonly called — with, generally, a smile,, 
and a peculiar emphasis on the brother — brother 


356 


How Baldy Won 

Gurnsey being a Methodist — a leading Methodist 
— this would have awakened surprise in Emory’s 
mind had he not known brother Gurnsey so well 
— had he not heard him remark more than once: 

“The landlord is a public servant, and must 
conduct himself in accordance with the moral 
standard of his customers, rather than try to force 
his upon them !” 

“Which wouldn't pay !” Dick Erksine once 
said, on hearing him so express himself to the 
Methodist preacher and the Official Board of the 
Methodist Church, who had called upon him to 
labor with him in relation to his bar, card and 
billiard tables, and the dances which he occasion- 
ally gave, or allowed, under his roof. 

Emory saw from the extraordinary illumina- 
tion, from the carriages which rolled up, from the 
elaborate get-up of the ladies who left them, and 
from the sprinkling of gentlemen in evening-suits 
— that the ball that was about to open was to be 
no ordinary affair. 

When I say that among the carriages there was 
not a single barouche, berlin, or even a coupe, it 
may be thought that “rolled up” is too high- 
sounding ; this impression may be increased by my 
adding that they w T ere chiefly single and double- 
seated buggies, that there were a good many demo- 
crat and a sprinkling of springless farm and lum- 


The County Seat. 357 

ber-wagons; but can anything on wheels come up 
without their rolling? 

The dress-suits were wrinkled, as if they had 
been taken from the bottoms of trunks, where 
they had been pressed down for a long while. 

There were not many decollete women. 

Some of these few had beautiful, milk-white 
shoulders — which were all the whiter in contrast 
with their sunburned necks— the white and the 
brown touching each other very distinctly where 
the collars of their ordinary dresses terminated. 

But most of the women were dressed as they 
would have been at a church-sociable. 

The same was true of most of the men — though 
some of them appeared to have simply cleaned up 
a bit in coming in from the fields, and many were 
in cow-boy jackets and leathern breeches, the lat- 
ter in some cases stuffed into the tops of high- 
heeled boots. 

None of these particulars of male costume were 
true, of course, in the cases of the business and 
professional men of Breezemead, or of the com- 
paratively few of the same classes from Whack- 
ston and other neighboring towns — that is, towns 
within a radius of a hundred miles — all of which 
were more or less represented — excepting Centre- 

ville and Butternut City — though . But let 

that appear in its place. 


358 


How Baldy Won 


Stepping into the office, Emory met Mr. Gurn- 
sey, who appeared embarrassed in recognizing 
him — or thinking he did — but reached out his 
hand, saying: 

“Glad to see you ! Make yourself at home !” 
and hurried away, as if he w r ere too busy to stop 
to more than speak with any one, and passed into 
the bar, found Erskine and Hugh, beckoned them 
into a corner, and whispered: 

“The plan miscarried !” 

“What plan?” asked Dick. 

“That of carrying off Walker!” 

“Guess not! Saw him kidnapped, bagged, and 
taken away myself!” — in which statement Dick 
thought he was uttering the literal truth ; for he 
was inside the building, looking from a window — 
the building from under the awning of which the 
kidnappers slunk — at the time when Emory was 
seized. 

“But he just entered the office !”* sibilated Mr. 
Gurnsey. 

“What office?” 

“The office of this hotel !” 

“Bet a cow you’re mistaken ! Even if he wasn’t 
kidnapped, how’d he come to be here?” 

“Why,” stammered Mr. Gurnsey, “when it was 
resolved to capture him at once, Day was sending 


The County Seat. 359 

out invitations for this annual ball, and I had her 
send him one, thinking, for one thing, that it 
would throw him off his guard, and, for an- 
other ” 

“Relieve the Adnogal from the possibility of 
being suspected of complicity in spiriting him 
away !” put in Hugh. 

Mr. Gurnsey made no reply. 

Dick said: 

“Some people always have an eye to business ! 
But if Walkers here, he’s a bold man ! He’s not 
here, though, I tell you !” 

“Yes, he is !” said Hugh. “Look there !” 

“Yes, I’m here !” said Emory, in his rich bari- 
tone. 

The admission was followed by his laugh. 

Erskine asked, in a dazed way: 

“What does this mean?” 

With his slcfw smile and long-drawn grin, Hugh 
stepped forward, took Emory violently by the 
hand and said: 

“Glad to see you, old man ! But, b-y 
G-e-o-r-g-e, that beard does change you ! If you 
and Walker aren’t doubles, no two men ever 
were !” 

“What’s that about Walker?” asked a voice,. 
w r hich w-as not unlike Emory’s, though not so 
strong. 


360 How Baldy Won 

Everybody turned towards the speaker. 

There stood Editor Walker himself — just en- 
tered. 

The likeness between him and Emory was 
really remarkable. 

The only difference between them to be seen 
at first glance was in their sizes. 

Together they could not be confounded, for 
Walker was a quarter of a head the shorter, of at 
least two inches the lesser chest measurement and 
wore a hat as many as two sizes the smaller; but 
one could see how, apart, they could hardly but be 
taken one for the other. 

Emory knew Walker, but Walker did not know 
him. 

When he was enlightened upon this point he — 
glancing towards the bar — asked in true Western 
style : 

“Who’s it on?” 

“Me !” answered Emory ; “but ” winked at 

Hugh and was gone. 

He was followed to the office by Mr. Gurn- 
sey, to whom he gave the necessary orders with re- 
gard to his luggage, which he followed to his room, 
which he entered, with a laugh, in which the por- 
ter did not join, as he did not know its cause. 

He had had a delightful adventure, to which 
reference will be made later. 


The County Seat. 361 

Fishing out his razor-strop, mug and brush, he 
found some water in the pitcher, produced a 
lather, and, forcing the smile from his lips, was 
soon beardless; — one of the most disagreeable of 
things to him being that of being taken for some- 
body else — which is always true of a thorough in- 
dividual — and of all the persons whom I have 
ever met the Eeverend Emory M. Emberson is 
the most thoroughly himself — which has always 
stood in the way of his advancement in the Church 
— but which has made him tremendously influen- 
tial in all those departments of thought and ac- 
tivity which lie just outside the Church, or which 
intersphere the Church. 

The first man he met on coming downstairs re- 
fused to shake hands with him. 

This was Doctor Gray 

He said: 

“I thought I told you to raise a beard !” 

“And I did !” 

“Where is it?” 

“Thrown away on the shaving paper!” 

“Why did you cut it off? You need it in this 
climate !” 

“I might as well die from a sore throat as from 
captivity, of having the loss of a horse saddled on 
me, or of being ‘done up’ for some one else !” 

“What do you mean?” 


362 


How Baldy Won 

“Let Dick and Hugh tell you !” — those two gen- 
tlemen following Mr. Walker, who was approaching 
Emory, hand extended for another shake, Diek 
winking as much as to say: 

“We have the right man in hand now and pro- 
pose to take care of him !” 

When Emory had met the doctor he was passing 
through the office towards the dining-room, where 
the dancing was to take place— where, indeed, the 
first dance had already occurred. 

In the course of the conversation which had 
followed this meeting he heard a bunch of horse- 
men ride up to the rear of the hotel. 

Surmising that this might mean something to 
him, or to the real Mr. Walker, he re-entered the 
bar — followed by Dick, Hugh and the editor. 

As he did so, a dozen rough men entered by the 
back door. 

They were the men from whom he had escaped 
— Blink-Eyed Tom at their head. 

Emory stepped forward into full view r . 

But he was not recognized, save as himself. 

Though Tom made a side glance at the bar — he 
was evidently very thirsty — he did not order a 
drink at once, but made inquiry for Dick Erskine. 

Dick and Hugh stepped forward — the real Mr. 
Walker between them — Dick saying : 

“Hello, Tom, here’s your man !” 


363 


The County Seat. 

Mr. Walker looked surprised and tried to smile, 
but he saw the situation was serious, and the at- 
tempt was not much of a success. 

The gentleman — Thomas J. Evans — whom 
Emory had met in the valley of his captivity, was 
not there. 

The desperado — Blink-Eyed Tom of the Cow- 
skin — replied : 

“He’s smaller’n he was this mornin’ 1” 

“But here he is ! Take him and go ! When 
you’ve wet your whistle ! What’ll you have ?” 

“What’ll I have? The same oT pison, of 
course !” 

The few minutes which it took for Tom and his 
companions to gulp down enough “pison” to kill 
fifty Eastern men — there were about a dozen of 
them — Emory employed in hurrying to his room 
and arming himself. 

When he returned, Tom and his men were just 
laying hold of Walker. 

Whipping out his revolver, he asked: 

“What does this mean ?” 

“We’ll explain later !” said Dick. 

“I’d rather know now !” was the answer, and 
every one present, at least every one interested in 
the scene, knew the answerer, was aware of what 
he could do with his “gun,” and realized that he 
had the drop; there was a pause upon the part of 


3^4 


How Baldy Won 

the aggressors, and the intended victim gave hiir 
a thankful look. 

“Now,” he continued, “I know you to be a good 
entertainer, Mr. Evans !” 

“How?” asked Mr. Evans, somewhat sullenly. 

“I have partaken of your hospitality !” 

“When ?” 

“I left your happy valley hut this morning !” 

“You ?” 

“Yes; I ? ve shaven since!” 

The gentleman — Mr. Thomas J. Evans — came 
out of his disguise at once, and, with a look of in- 
telligence and admiration, bowed, saying: 

“Your humble servant to command ! But how 
did you get over the Quicksand?” 

“Rode over !” answered Emory — his eyes all 
about him — guarding his drop carefully. 

“Where?” 

“You’ll have to ask Baldy, the horse which you 
so kindly lent me. But however I got over the 
Quicksand here I am ! And I propose to see to 
it that if any one is again taken from this vicinity 
to your habitation he shall be taken more comfort- 
ably than I was !” 

“How were you taken?” — the question coming 
not from the gentleman, Thomas J. Evans, but 
from the desperado — coming morosely. 

“You need not ask, for you know ! But it seems 


The County Seat. 365 

to me this is rather a public place for private con- 
versation V y 

All showed that they saw this to be so, it having 
been mentioned, and, with tacit understanding, 
Erskine and Hugh led the way through the lower 
hallway, up the stairs and along the upper hallway 
to the room in which the reader has seen the 
Breezemead Vigilance Committee in meeting sev- 
eral times. 

Erskine and Hugh were followed by Mr. Walker 
aad Mr. Evans, who were followed by Emory and 
some others of the Vigilantes, who were in the bar 
when the suggestion as to its too great publicity 
for the matter in hand was made, who were fol- 
lowed by Mr. Gurnsey, Mr. Nothym and Mr. Byn- 
son, who, from where they had conversed in the 
office, had seen the procession come from the bar. 

When the room was reached and the guard 
placed, Emory said: 

"Now, Mr. Evans, Fll tell these gentlemen how 
I was conducted to your domicile ! ” 

When he had conveyed some notion of the ex- 
quisite agony which he had suffered from the way 
in which his hands had been tied, and from the 
bag — the mealy bag — over his head, and said : “It 
may be necessary — it is necessary at times — for 
civilized men to deprive a civilized man of his lib- 
erty ; but it is only apparently civilized men — men 


366 


How Baldy Won 

who, upon their being scratched, are found to be 
savages, or devils, who give to a prisoner unneces- 
sary pain !” 

All eyes were upon Mr. Evans. 

He made no response. 

Emory continued: 

“I am — as I hear it expressed in the West — after 
nobody’s scalp ! I'm anxious that another should 
not suffer from thoughtlessness — for the kindnesses 
which were lavished upon me during the few hours 
of my imprisonment lead me to believe that the 
agonies which I endured on the way to prison came 
of thoughtlessness.” 

"I’ll see to that !” said Mr. Evans. 

“Now,” said Emory, “I want you to bear with 
me while I ask Mr. Walker a question or two — 
which I am sure he’ll pardon me for asking !” 

The gentle and apologetic tones in which this 
was said caused every one, including Mr. Walker, 
to nod his assent. 

Emory proceeded : 

“Mr. Walker, knowing — as you must have 
known, from the state of feeling existing between 
this city and Butternut City — that you were plac- 
ing yourself in danger by coming here to-night, 
why did you come ?” 

Mr. Walker lowered his eyes, blushed, looked at 
Mr. Gurnsey and replied, hesitatingly : 


The County Seat. 367 

“I received a note of invitation from Miss Day — 
and — I can think of no danger which would kee*p 
me away from any place to which she might ex- 
press a desire that I might come !” 

There was a general laugh. 

“Why have you worked so hard in the interest 
of Centreville in the matter of the locating of the 
county-seat ?” 

“I was hired to do so ! ” 

“Could you be hired to change sides ?” 

“No ! When the county-seat question is settled 
I’ll be open to engagement, and not till then !” 

“You feel that your honor is engaged as much as 
it would be were you a lawyer and had been re- 
tained by a client ?” 

“Certainly !” 

“I am glad to hear you say so ! I w^ould feel, 
under the same circumstances, precisely as you do ! 
You may have heard that I have had some ex- 
perience as a journalist?” 

Mr. Walker nodded his head affirmatively. 

“Have you any interest save a professional one 
in the success of Centreville?” 

“No. On the other hand ” 

Emory, in the fear that the temptation was so 
great that something might be said which would 
be held to be to the discredit of journalism — he be- 
ing as chary of the honor of the profession in 


368 


How Baldy Won 

which he had been as of that of the one in which 
he now was — interrupted with : 

"You are about to be confided to the hands of 
a man” — he bowed to Mr. Evans — "who will take 
good and kindly care of you. The only thing you 
will suffer will be the restraint of your liberty. 
Where you are going you will find not only the 
comforts of life, but so many of the luxuries that 
you will have to guard against their using you 
rather than your using them ! In other words, the 
eatables, the drinkables, the smokables, will be so 
abundant and of such excellent quality that there 
will be danger for you in the direction of over-in- 
dulgence — against which” — this with a smile and 
in a hortatory tone — "it is my vocational duty to 
warn you. Among the comforts, you'will find in a 
w r ardrobe enough suits of clothes to change, if you 
see fit, for every meal, and drawers well stocked 
with linen and underwear — all of which, excepting 
one suit of underwear, you will find unworn and 
unsoiled — for which I am not to be thanked, but 
Nature, who used a little more of her raw material 
in making me than in creating you. Then, if you 
are as fortunate as I was, you will be entertained 
by, among other things, some wonderful displays 
of horsemanship!” 

"But we won’t let you entertain us !” put in Mr. 
Evans, with a laugh. 


369 


The County Seat. 

In this laugh Emory joined, together with every- 
body else — though he and the one who commenced 
it were the only two w'ho thoroughly appreciated 
its cause. 

The laugh ended, he asked, looking at Mr. 
Walker : 

“Is there any request that you would like to 
make ?” 

“Only the privilege of seeing Miss Day before I 
go” 

“Very well/’ replied Emory, when he had looked 
around and seen consent in the eyes of the Commit- 
tee. “But the interview must take place in the 
parlor, on this floor ! It can’t be allowed that you 
see the Queen on the ground floor ! And remem- 
ber, that while you are in the parlor the doors and 
windows will be carefully watched ! — not looked 
through V 9 

“Have you any doubts of the fidelity of Miss 
Day ?” 

“Not so far as you are concerned ! Which I do 
not mean to her discredit ! The woman who 

wouldn't betray any one for the man . But 

there has never been such a woman, and there never 
will be r 

“And do you think ” 

There was nothing unkindly in the laugh with 
which the meeting broke up. 


370 


How Baldy Won 

While the interview was in progress Emory 
talked over with Mr. Evans and the leading Vigi- 
lantes the means of conveyance of the captive to 
his place of detention. 

When Mr. Walker appeared his face was shining. 

Than he ? no one ever submitted to imprisonment 
with a lighter heart. 


The County Seat. 


37i 


CHAPTER XXVII. 


AX AMENDMENT. 


I have told of some unpleasant results which 
came to our hero through his beard — from the re- 
semblance which it gave him to Editor Walker; 
there was an extremely pleasant one to which I 
have only referred. 

In following his luggage from the office, he had 
mounted the stairway and was passing the door of 
the parlor, when it opened slightly and a delicate, 
white hand appeared, which beckoned to him. 

When he had entered the dimly lighted room and 
the door had been closed after him two slender 
and delicate arms 

But what arms, to say nothing of lips, may do 
under such circumstances would better be imagined 
than told — in a history. 

What they had done on this occasion was in his 
mind when he came down to a late breakfast the 
next morning. 


372 


How Baldy Won 

When, the night before, the closed carriage and 
its attendant horsemen were gone away, he had not 
re-entered the dining-room, office or bar, but gone 
directly to his room, taken a bath, tumbled into 
bed, and, in spite of the music and dancing, fallen 
into a profound sleep, from which he had not 
awakened till long after daybreak. 

The court — all of whom were men of affairs — 
in spite of the late, or early, hour at which they 
had reti~ d, had breakfasted long before and gone 
to their various employments. 

The Queen was alone at table. 

Though a little worn in appearance she greeted 
Emory cheerily and declared that she had never 
felt better. 

“You would not like to have me repeat that re- 
mark to Mr. Walker when he gets back, if he ever 
does, would you ?” 

An anxious look flitted across her face, which 
w'as followed by a laugh, as she asked : 

“Do you know that I am worried, Mr. Ember- 
son?” 

“You don’t look as though you were, and, so, 
how could I be aware of it till you told me ?” 

“It seems to me that there were two Mr. Walk- 
ers here last night — one larger than the other ! I 
— I — met him — ah — upstairs, and the — the — the — 
other when I came down !” 


The County Seat. 373 

“Do I look anything like Mr. Walker ?” asked 
Emory, teasingly. 

The Queen gave him a startled look, and said : 

“You have the same complexion, your eyes are 
the same color, you have the same dark-brown hair, 
and . What is the color of your beard ?” 

“Can’t you guess?” 

“]STo ! You are the only man about who is clean- 
shaven. You must shave every morning, don’t 
you?” 

“Yes — when I’m not ill !” 

“Oh ! I remember ! You had a two-weeks’ 
growth of beard before you went away, but it was 
so unbecoming to you that I did not allow myself 
to look at it ! Please tell me — what’s its color ?” 

“Yellowish-browmish-auburnish-red !” 

“The color of Mr. Walker’s?” 

“Almost exactly !” 

“When did you shave last?” 

“Last evening.” 

“When last before that?” 

“The morning before the recovery of the county 
archives from the raiding Centrevillians !” 

Her face and neck grew very red, her eyes 
drooped and she bit her lip, but managed to ask: 

“Have another cup of coffee ?” 

When Emory came out of the dining-room he 


374 How Baldy Won 

met Squire Kiley in the office and inquired after 
Baldy. 

“He’s all right ! But the fellow who went into 
his stall this morning to curry him ’s all wrong! 
Fll have to have him doctored and boarded ! That 
horse will be the death of some of us yet ! I can’t 
get rid of him! When it was known that you 
wouldn’t be about for some time I sent him to a 
ranch beyond the Quicksand. In three or four 
weeks I learned that he had been stolen. But last 
evening a bearded man — ha, ha ! — rode him back !” 

“What’ll you take for him ?” 

“Take for him ! Do you want him? You ought 
to have him ! You are the only one who can do 
anything with him ! If you want him he’s yours !” 

“Hear that, Mr. Gurnsey?” 

“Yes.” 

“You mean it, Squire?” 

“Of course, I do ! I’d be glad to give you some- 
thing of more value — though to you, who can man- 
age him, for whom he has taken a fancy, there is 
not a better bit of horseflesh on the continent ! I 
hope that he may serve you often as he did in 

that plucky break you made from the den 

on the Cowskin !” 

“How did you hear of that?” 

“Tom told me.” 

“Do you know him ?” 


375 


The County Seat. 

“Yes, and a fine man he is — in his way !” 

As the Squire buttoned his overcoat, preparatory 
to going out into a sleet which was beginning to 
fall, Emory said to him : 

“Ell be around after my property directly.” 

“He’s yours !” 

The Squire gone, in response to a look from 
Emory, Mr. Gurnsey said: 

“He means it !” 

This remark was in the making when two di- 
lapidated individuals entered. 

They looked as if they had been wading and 
walking most of the night. 

One of them had a badly cut, bruised and swol- 
len face. 

The other was always putting his hand to the 
back of his head, as if he had been hurt there. 

They inquired for Mr. Evans. 

Mr. Gurnsey pretended to look over the register 
and said: 

“We have no such man with us.” 

They appeared disappointed. 

Emory asked: 

“Had an accident?” 

“Yes,” replied the one with the sore face, “our 
horses were stampeded last night and I fell and 
cut my face in running after them.” 


376 How Baldy Won 

“What’s the matter with the back of your part- 
ner’s head ?” 

“Nuthin’, fur’s I know!” 

Emory had fully recognized them as the two 
men, whom, David-like, he had bowled over in the 
swale beyond the Quicksand. 

He asked them where they wanted to go. 

“To Whaekston,” one of them replied. 

“Please give them their breakfast, Mr. Gurn- 
sey,” said Emory, “and I’ll see what can be done 
in the direction of helping them on their way.” 

He soon found a freighter, who was lightly load- 
ed and who was willing to take them for a consid- 
eration. 

Eeturning to the hotel, he told them what ar- 
rangement he had made. 

They seemed thankful, did not want to talk, and, 
their breakfasts having been consumed, went out 
and joined the freighter, with whom they affiliated 
at once. 

They were probably limbs from the same tree. 

This matter settled, Emory went to the stable 
for Baldy. 

After his recent treatment of a fellow-stable- 
man, there was no one about willing to enter his 
stall. 

Emory saddled him himself, mounted and was 


The County Seat. 377 

pleased to find him as full of activity and energy 
as ever. 

Plunging through the sleet, which was falling in 
sheets, he soon covered the five miles. 

Which five miles ? 

What other than those lying between Breeze- 
mead and the Lone Tree Claim would he have 
thought of riding over in such a storm ? 

When he dismounted the sleet had so frozen upon 
him that he looked like a mailed warrior. 

This did not prevent some one from being glad 
to see him. 

How anxious he must have been to come to her ! 

He asked if she had noticed how there was a 
ridge in the centre of the road out — the ridge 
which was in the centre of all roads, between the 
deep ruts worn by the feet of the teams, for no- 
body drove a single horse — people would almost 
have run out of their houses to see a horse driven 
singly — any one who could afford to drive at all 
could afford to drive a span — horses being so cheap 
that they could be had for a song, and it costing 
next to nothing to keep them. 

Miss Avaway had noticed the ridge. 

Emory told her how Baldy had insisted on gal- 
loping on this ridge, how his hind feet had slipped 
off at every other jump, how his front feet had 
slidden at the alternate jumps, how thus at every 


378 


How Baldy Won 

second of the whole five miles both his neck and 
that of his rider had been endangered, adding: 

“He is the greatest living horse! When Fm 
killed in equestrianism Baldy is the horse that I 
want to attend to the job !” 

“How you do talk!” 

“Then you would care if nm neck were to be 
broken ?” 

Her eyes gleamed. 

That was the moment. 

Emory took her hand and asked awkwardly 
enough : 

“Will you be my friend ?” 

“I am your friend !” 

“My •” 

“I have long wanted to ask you a question which 
I may ask you now, may I not?” 

“Yes, and a thousand more if you see fit !” 

“How shall I ask it? You remember the first 
time we met — at the concert ?” 

“How can I ever forget it?” 

“Well, that night I dreamed over and over that 
you were in trouble. I saw two men come to your 
door and heard them knock. I heard you speak to 
them from within your room. Then I s^w you — 
looking and speaking and acting bravely, oh, so 
bravely! — in a room where there were several men. 


379 


The County Seat. 

Your revolver was in your hand, and you were 
master of them all ! When I awoke it seemed to 
me that it was more than a dream !” 

“Can you describe the men ?” 

“Yes, and more, I can name them — the two who 
would have taken you to where the others were, 
but whom you took there instead, at the point of 
the revolver, and those into whose presence you 
marched them/' 

“Then there is no need that I tell you that you 
had a vision ! And I had dreams that night which 
I hope may prove to have been visions, also — wak- 
ing dreams; for I did not dare to fall asleep, even 
had I been so disposed — which I was not ; for my 
blood had been so stirred at and immediately after 
the concert that it would not quiet ! Castle after 
castle arose to me, and each of them had a mis- 
tress !” 

Miss Avaway withdrew her hand and arose, a 
constrained look in her face, saying: 

“Please excuse me l” and left the room. 

She was not much more than gone when her 
mother entered. 

Though he remained long, in the hope that there 
might be such an event, he was not again alone 

with her. 

As night was falling he was riding to Breeze- 


380 


How Baldy Won 

mead furiously, keeping the ridge in the centre of 
the road, though, as the darkness deepened, Baldy 
showed a disposition to leave it. 

There would have been more unacceptable things 
to him than a broken neck. 

He had not been long in his room when there 
was a knock. 

Hugh entered. 

When he had lighted a cigar he asked: 

“Where have you been all day, Em ?” 

“Where have you been?” — for it was very evi- 
dent from his bespattered state that he, too, had 
been on the trail. 

“Out to see my prairie-chicken ! And, say, when 
can you tie that knot for us ?” 

“Whenever you like — if you are foolish enough 
to still want it tied !” — the comment accompanied 
by a misanthropic laugh. 

With a wide-eyed stare, Hugh asked, anxiously : 

“What’s the matter with you ?” 

“When does it take place ?” 

The date, which had been settled upon that day, 
was mentioned, and Hugh — seeing that for some 
reason or another Emory did not want company — 
went away. 

Within a week Emory received a letter running 
as follows; 


The County Seat. 


38i 


“The Reverend Emory M. Emberson : 

“Reverend and Dear Sir — At the request of Miss 
Martha Avaway, I write to ask if it will be con- 
venient for you to unite us in Holy Matrimony at 

the home of her parents on the ■, 18 — ? 

Very respectfully yours, 

a » 


Editor Walker out of the way, Breezemead had 
little trouble in carrying the election by a good 
majority. 

When the returns were in the Vigilantes had a 
“blow out." 

Towards its close Dick Erskine arose, steadied 
himself on the shoulder of Hugh, who sat next to 
him,, and said : 

“I move you, Mr. Chairman, that a resolution of 
thanks be framed by a committee appointed by the 
chair for that purpose, engrossed and presented to 
(hie) the Reverend Emory M. Emberson, for (hie) 
not only the part that he has taken in bringing 
about the (hie) result which we are (hie) cTebra- 
bratiiT this even (hie) ing, but for that (hie) re- 
sult." 

The motion was seconded. 

Emory arose and moved that the word Baldy be 
substituted for the words the Reverend Emory M. 
Emberson. 


382 


How Baldy Won 

Seconded and carried unanimously — much, to 
Hugh’s amusement, he, with the exception of Em- 
ory, who drank nothing but water, and so was mel- 
lowed only to the extent that the fumes of taran- 
tula-juice could have a mellowing effect — he being 
the only sober man present, not excepting Brother 
Gurnsey. 

The affirmative vote on the motion as amended 
was also unanimous. 

When the rest of the company was under the 
table Emory and Hugh adjourned by going home. 

Nobody enjoyed the joke of the amendment more 
than Editor Walker — who walked into the Adnogal 
the next day free, and happy — especially prospect- 
ively. 

When Emory reached home — he had been away 
from the Adnogal for some time — he found that — 
in spite of the fact that it took but one figure to 
represent the hour — there was one stopping up to 
receive him. 

Who? .... 

When all had been arranged with regard to 
transporting Editor Walker to the cell which had 
been vacated, he had asked Mr. Evans : 

“How’s your hand ?” 

“Why?” 

“The stone must have hurt it !” 

“Which stone ?” 


The County Seat. 383 

“The one which yon thought was coming after 
me, but which went in the opposite direction \” 

“Did you see that ?” 

“Yes; and what became of the •” 

“Back-action ? Don’t know ! 

Before I could handle my ‘p°PP e r’ he was up the 
cliff, where only a mountain lion could have scaled 
it, over, and away!” 

The next evening Red inquired for his old 
friend at the Adnogal. 

Within a week they were in the little rectory, 
near the church — “baching it.” 

There 

But that is another story. 


THE END. 





I 








PRICE. SO CENTS. 


How Baldy Won 
The County Seat. 


. . . By . . . 

CHARLES dOSIAH ADAMS. 


& 


NEW YORK : 

J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY, 
57 Rose Street. 



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